The Stories of Unsung Heroes
by Gambitized
Summary: During the First and Second Wizarding Wars, There were many heroic actions taken by the wizards of the time. Old or young, wizard or witch, Ministry official or shopkeeper, Brave or cowardly, these are the stories of the previously unknown wizards who fought back in ways, some little and some big, against Lord Voldermort. Canon Compliant.
1. Helena Dearborn

**Summary: Helena had never known that the couple that lived next to her was wizards.**

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It was a cold November night. And when Helena said cold, she meant it. The pond had frozen over around midday, and now, with the thin watery sun gone, the temperature had only dropped lower.

There were two houses grouped close together on a lonely stretch of country lane where Helena lived, and only in the house that she lived were lights still visible, if only just. The occupants of the other house, an unfriendly young couple that Helena had only met once, and which had only moved in two months ago, had long since extinguished their lights and gone to bed.

On any other night, Helena would have been in bed as well, burrowing beneath the sheets for warmth, but on this particular date, she had stayed up to do the same thing she had done for the last seventeen years. She had moved a box from the attic onto her table, and had laid out a number of pictures. They all showed the same handsome young man, more often than not with an arm around a younger looking Helena. The young man, her husband, had died eighteen years ago to the day, fighting in the war that was supposed to make sure that this war never happened.

Helena had never understood why he had decided to fight for something that had only ended in his death.

In the photographs laid out in front of her, she could see their short lives together. There was only a few on the table, a reminder of how short a time they had been married. Helena sighed as she picked up their marriage photos for perhaps the sixth time that night. They were they had only been twenty then, young, full of happiness. Two years later, he was dead, and she was alone.

She hadn't wanted him to fight, had begged him to keep his head down like the rest of them were, but he had refused, telling her that some things were worth fighting for.

Helena sighed again and gazed into her husband's ever youthful face, remembering the way he had said her name. She would have doubtlessly kept staring at her husband, but a loud crack broke through the night, jolting her so badly that she elbowed a picture of their honeymoon off the table. Helena's breath caught halfway up her throat, fear dropping into her stomach like a load of textbooks. Dropping the photo to the table with a loud clatter, Helena sped out of the kitchen and into her sitting room, where she could see out into her front yard through a window there. Knocking over a chair in the dark, she lounged to the window, peering out into the night.

Though there was only a relatively small front yard in front of her house, the clouds were preventing the moon from shining onto the ground, so that Helena could only see a few vague shapes moving about in the darkness. After a long minute during which Helena wondered if it had just been her imagination, there was a flare of light from a wand, so bright after the almost pitch darkness that Helena jerked away from the window. Blinking rapidly, she stumbled back to the window. There, in the bright light, three silver masks the glinted at her. Helena felt as though she had been physically struck as she recognized the masks.

Death Eaters: here, in the middle of the nowhere. Too terrified to move, Helena clutched the window sill, her mouth suddenly dry.

However, the Death Eaters weren't coming toward her house, like Helena feared they would. Instead, they glanced at each other, and then, with a loud whoop from one of them, they started shooting spells at the neighbors' house with loud bangs. Explosions shook the night, windows shattered, the wall to the living room fell in, and a corner of the house blew off, exposing a bathroom to the open air.

The lights in her neighbor's house flickered on, the owners finally awakened by the noise the Death Eaters were making. The Death Eaters were yelling something; one of them pointed their wand at the door and it exploded, wood shards flying every direction. They continued to yell, dull shouts that Helena couldn't hear through her window. After a moment's fearful hesitation, Helena opened the window, so that the noise and cold air washed over her at the same time.

"Come out, Come out," one of the Death Eaters was calling, laughing so much that it was hard to understand him.

"Enough of this," bellowed the only one with his wand still lit, watching his fellow Death Eaters destroy the house. "If you don't come out in thirty seconds, we'll burn this whole house down.

Helena, shivering not just from the cold breeze, felt sickened as she watched the other two Death Eaters yell and jeer, the horrible masks they wore glinting in the light coming out of the upper windows. Feeling helpless, she watched as the door was pushed open and the young couple emerged, still in their night clothes.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," yelled one of the Death Eaters, waving his wand at the couple. Two wands flew into the night sky, before being lost from sight somewhere in the darkness that surrounded the scene. Helena felt something cold settle in her stomach. She had never known that her neighbors had been wizards. How could she have not known that? They had lived there for almost two months now, and Helena hadn't even guessed at it.

One of the Death Eaters seemed to be talking, but even with the window open, Helena couldn't quite make out what they were saying. She could see plainly see that the young couple was terrified however. The witch, blinking in the harsh light, gestured desperately, voice lost in the dark. The Death Eaters laughed at something she had said, the biggest brandishing his wand at her and telling her something that the husband didn't like; with a roar like a bull, he yelled "I don't bloody think so," and rushed right at the Death Eaters.

Helena flinched horribly as he collided with a spell that sent him soaring backwards, until he smashed into the wall of the house. The wife screamed, running toward him. Helena was trembling almost as violently as the wife was as she watched on, a powerless onlooker to a horror unfolding in front of her.

One of the Death Eaters erected Shield Charm in front of the wife, so that she smacked into it just before she reached her husband, making her stumbled over backwards, blood running from her nose. Laughing at her, the Death Eaters didn't notice the husband hauling himself to his feet, until, with another bellow, he tackled the closet one.

Helena lost track of him as he rolled about on the ground with the Death Eater. The other two death eaters turned to help their comrade, and the wife used the distraction to leap on the back of the big Death Eater with his wand lit. With an awful yell, he danced around on the spot, trying to dislodge her. The only Death Eater not being attacked yelled something, pointing his wand at the ground.

For several seconds, the fighters scrambled around, yelling, and Helena lost track of who was where and who was fighting who. With only one wand still lit, and that being waved around so much that Helena could only see brief flashes of what was going on, and the lights streaming from the windows falling in all the wrong places Helena couldn't be sure of what was going on. Peering desperately through her own window, she saw a jet of red light fly from a wand, missing its intended target and hit one of the only remaining windows in the house, which shattered, spraying glass upon the people fighting below. The wife had grabbed for the Death Eater's wand as she clung to his back, fighting back against his attempts to throw her off. With a sudden darkness, the wand's light went out, so that the only lights came from the ruined house.

Seized with the sudden and urgent desire to move, or to help, or to do _something_ Helena fumbled clumsily for her wand, her hands shaking so much that it took her three tries to retrieve her wand. When she looked up at last, she knew it had been far too slow. The fight was already over.

One of the Death Eaters had managed to relight his wand, and was training it steadily at the ground, where the husband had been thrown. Helena couldn't tell if he was still moving. The wife was still struggling to hold on to the biggest Death Eater, who was yelling, until with a massive heave, he flipped her over his shoulder to the ground, where she landed heavily.

"You fucking Mudblood," screamed the big Death Eater, holding his ear. Helena shrunk back, all thoughts of fighting gone with his show of viciousness. The Death Eater lowered his voice, speaking so softly that Helena couldn't hear him, though her imagination filled in the gaps as she watched the Death Eater lift his wand.

The wife screamed as the Death Eater cast his spell, followed quickly by the husband as the other Death Eaters joined in. Helena staggered back, feeling tears welling in her eyes at the sound of their pain, wishing that she wasn't here, or that she was brave enough to stop them, or—"

"Stop," cried a new, incredibly young sounding voice and Helena lurched forward, hating herself for looking, but unable to stop herself.

"Stop," cried the voice again, and Helena felt what little color she had left leave her, as little form, a child, sped out of the house and stood, shaking, on the front porch.

"Kill me instead, please, "the tiny form screamed, the noise hitting Helena like a knife plunging home. "Kill me instead."

Helena fumbled away from the window, unable to watch any longer. She could hear the child's cries, the parents screaming something, and the Death Eater's yells, all blending into one voice that made it incomprehensible. Running out of the sitting room, she slammed right into the table with her midriff, taking her breath away. She automatically flung a her hand down to stop herself from smacking her head onto the table, and caught herself a mere six inches from the picture of her husband's face.

For a second that seemed much longer, she stood frozen in that awkward position, and gazed at into his grey eyes, so fearless, smile lines crinkling around them as he waved at her. And just like that, with a sudden rush of clarity, she understood, for the first time in eighteen years, why he had fought. It wasn't to win, but because not doing anything was worse – so much worse- than losing.

Helena remained there, staring at her husband, her brave, brave husband. He smiled at her, telling her that she knew what to do, that she would be all right. When she shook her head, trying to tell him that she couldn't, that she was too afraid, too scared, that she had never been a good fighter, he just smile wider. Then, with a slight nod of his head, he told her to get going.

With an inner strength that she never knew that she had, she straightened up and rushed to the door, all the fears she had grown accustom to disappearing. She could still hear yelling and then one loud bang as she rushed to the door, waving her wand at the door, so that it flew open ahead of her. Never slowing down, she hurtled out of the door, ready to fight like she should have so many years ago.

She was too late. The three Death Eaters were already in mid-turn, and, with another loud crack masked by the door slamming open, they disappeared. The yard was once again empty, and, with the notable exception of the house missing half its side, it was almost as if nothing had happened.

Helena slowed down, the temporary bravery leaving her as suddenly as it had come. She had been too slow; her cowardness had doomed three people. She stopped at the edge of her front porch, gazing out into the cold night, her breath misting in front of her.

Helena clutched her railing for support, hating herself, when she a small and lonely sob break the night, more startling, but gentler too, then the Death Eaters apparition had done. With no more hesitation, she ran out toward the noise, crossing the field faster then she had for many years. Within moments of searching, she had found the small child, huddled into a ball, whether in fear or cold, Helena didn't know.

"Come here you brave little child," she said, kneeling down next to the child. The child looked up, and Helena found herself looking into a small girl's face, tears pouring down her face and her little body shivering with cold.

"Mummy?" whimpered the little girl, tear-filled eyes looking up at Helena.

"No, sweetie," whispered Helena, gathering the little girl into her arms and lifting her up, feeling how light she felt. The girl was so distraught that she didn't put up any resistance to being picked up and carried away by a strange woman. How old could she be? Helena thought sadly, five? Six?

Reaching her door, she awkwardly swung it shut behind her, welcoming the warmth of her house. Carrying the child into her sitting room, Helena saw that the child was still shivering violently, even as Helena gently put her down on the couch and covered her with a blanket. After a moment's hesitation, she sat down next to the small form and reached out, gingerly pulling the little girl into a hug.

Helena glanced down at the little girl, patting her reassuringly on the back, unsure of what else to do. Slowly, after what might have been hours, the little girl's sobbing slowed, and her little shoulders stopped shaking and relaxed into deep, even breathing, disturbed only occasionally by small twitches.

Helena watched the girl as she twitched, well aware that she didn't the slightest thing about the child, or how to care for her or even what her name was. After a few more minutes of watching, Helena felt confident enough that she wasn't going to wake up, and slowly stood up, trying not to disturb the little girl's sleep. Moving silently across the room, she walked back into the kitchen.

It was exactly as she left it. Helena didn't know why she had thought that it would have changed, but still surprised her that nothing had changed. Glancing at the clock that hung on the wall, Helena noticed with a small shock only the only twenty minutes ago she had been looking at the pictures of her husband.

And now there was a small child whose parents had just been taken to Azkaban, or killed, lying on her couch.

"Oh dear," mumbled Helena, feeling scared once more. It would be dangerous to keep the child, that much Helena knew for sure. But what was the alternative? Make her leave? Toss her out into the cold? Or maybe, thought Helena, give her to an orphanage?

Helena walked back over to the sitting room doorway, looking once more at the girl huddled beneath the blankets thinking. Giving her away would be the safer option. Helena could pass her on to someone who actually knew how to take care of her. Helena wouldn't have to be afraid that every day that someone might find them.

Looking down at the small child lying half in her couch, remembering her begging the Death Eaters to kill her instead of her parents, Helena couldn't do it. If a child could show that much bravery, so could she. Fate might have abandoned this child, but Helena wouldn't.

After all, despite all her faults, Helena Dearborn was a good person, and though she might not have been the bravest hero, she knew that she would care for that little girl, even if they killed her for it.


	2. Edmund Anderson

Night had already fallen when Edmund Anderson finally made it to the street on which he lived.

It had been a long day for Edmund. These days, it wasn't surprising to have a bad day, not with times being how they were but even by Edmund's low standard, this day had, as the Muggles called it, 'taken the cake.'

First, he had been held up when he had realized he had forgotten to grab his token to enter the Ministry, then managed to get out at the wrong level, suffered through a unpleasant brush with the Minister himself, and then, when he finally managed to get to the right level, had been sent to deal with a rouge Hippogriff that had somehow managed to find its way into a small Muggle town. It had taken him and a team of Obliviators most of the day to clear up that mess, and when he had gotten back, he had been forced to stay late, the higher-ups having demanded he write up a full report before he could leave.

So he knew he could have been forgiven for rushing home. His wife would be expecting him, and it was likely that his son's next letter had finally gotten through the stringent defensive measures Hogwarts now employed. His wife would have finished work long before he had, and in his absence, would have already made dinner. She was worried about him, Edmund knew, worried that the Ministry would have him dragged away.

But he knew that she could wait five more minutes. Five more minutes of waiting wouldn't kill her.

Edmund had, since early August, gotten in the habit of casting protective charms over a different house in his neighborhood every day. He knew that it wasn't much, that five minutes of charms would not keep out Death Eaters if they wanted to get in and kill one of the poor Muggles, but it was something, and every little bit helped. More importantly, it was the right thing to do, and Edmund knew that the doing the right thing was even more vital than ever during these dark days.

Edmund had already decided to do the Williams' household tonight. They had a son about his own son's age, and he knew that they were good people. They didn't exactly trust him (they had seen him in robes too many times, and from what Edmund had gathered, thought that he was a little cracked in the head) but that wouldn't cause a problem; they would never see him, and even on the off chance they did, they wouldn't know he was casting a spell on them.

Edmund took a moment to get his bearings; the mist the Dementors were causing had made him get turned around more than once. He finally took off down a side street, hoping more than knowing that it was the fastest way to the Williams' house.

The street was dark and narrow, but that didn't bother Edmund overly. He had been scared of the dark as a child, but there were far worse things out there than the dark now. The street—really more an alley—was covered with garbage and dirt, but Edmund barely noticed as the lower fringe of his robe dragged through it. He let his feet move automatically as he let his tired mind wander. It went over his day, then to his wife and son, and over to a joke he had heard in the lift that day. He had just remembered the punch line to it, and was muttering it under his breath in an effort to remind himself to tell his wife later that evening when he first caught sight of the Williams' house.

He immediately knew something was wrong. The front lawn had giant gouges put into it, and the front door was hanging off one hinge, waving at him. Edmund looked up at the sky, fearing the worst, but there was no Dark Mark set in the sky yet; the Williams were still alive.

Edmund noticed all this with a disconnected mind, a skill he had learned from watching many a scene of creatures and the carnage they had caused. Edmund took a deep breath, watching the busted door and thinking quickly.

There wasn't enough time to get any help, even if there had been some to find. The Williams would be dead long before they came back. If Edmund did anything but rush into the house, the Williams were dead.

Edmund was moving toward the front door before his mind caught up with his feet. He was scared, yes, but he had long ago figured out that the true measure of courage was overcoming fear. Only the scared man could be brave, while the fearless man could never be brave, because what was there for him for his bravery to overcome?

Edmund entered through the front door, mind still moving rapidly. Death Eaters always worked in groups, and Edmund was an honest enough man to know that he was never much of a dueler. If it came to a fight, Edmund wouldn't live to see end of it.

Edmund moved through the silent house, looking for its occupants. The whole place was ruined, furniture destroyed and pictures flung over the floor, spreading glass shards everywhere. There was even some kind of odd Muggle device that was half destroyed, but there was no sign of the Williams. Edmund knew that they would have them all together, and that meant an open space, but his mind was still elsewhere. He could see his death coming for him, surer than a song. Edmund didn't think he could avoid it, had known long ago that if he saw Death Eaters doing something like this, he would have to stop it.

The backyard, Edmund decided. That was the most likely place for the Death Eaters to have their victims. His pulse quickened as he moved toward the door, his mind still trying to gather his thoughts. Edmund could already feel regret, regret that his last words to his son had been advice, regret that his wife wouldn't see him again. He had expected more, but he found that those two were the only two that mattered at the end. Edmund nodded to himself, satisfied, the satisfaction of a man who has tried his life in his mind one last time, and found it worthy. Those things were worth regretting, and Edmund was glad that there was nothing else. With those only those two regrets, he could to die.

Edmund shouldered open the door to the back yard. His mind, finally having prepared itself, focused fully on the task at hand, ready for anything to come now.

The grass grew green, lively and bright under the nearly-full moon, the color broken by the white fence that had been built around it. There were scattered objects lying around the yard, but only three that mattered.

The Williams were lying next to each other, trembling as they tried to understand what was happening. Edmund could see three Death Eaters standing over them, wand pointed at their prey. They were laughing quietly to themselves, enjoying the sight of the Muggles writhing in fear.

"Let them go," Edmund said clearly, his own wand coming up to rest on the back of the biggest Death Eater. "I won't ask again."

The three Death Eaters turned as one, regarding this newcomer with a cool indifference. Edmund saw that they didn't even bother to wear masks anymore. The middle one, a man with a pale, twisted face grinned nastily at him, a predatory gleam coming into his eye. However, his companion, a man with a brutal-looking face, was the one who spoke.

"You can't stop us," he said, eyes flicking down to look at the wand in Edmund's slightly shaky hand. Edmund fumbled with his name for a second before remembering it was Yaxley; he was one of the Death Eaters working at the Ministry. "I've seen you before. You're a half-blood." He hesitated, before adding halfheartedly "We're running low on proper wizards at the moment, so I'll give you one chance to leave."

"I'm not leaving until the Williams are safe," Edmund said firmly. He knew he was as good as spelling out his death sentence, but it didn't matter. What was one life compared to three?

"These Mudbloods?" Yaxley asked incredulously, not even looking at them as he spoke. The Williams had watched this exchange, scared silent by things that they had never thought possible. The son, a bright lad maybe a year younger then Edmund's boy, was already gathering up his parents and making them crawl toward the gate in the fence.

"They're people," Edmund said. "They're as human as me, and rather more human than you."

"They're filth," rebuked the brutal faced man, glaring at Edmund. The Williams were making good time; they were already half way to the fence. "They're nothing but dirt to be swept away."

"That's not true, and if you spent five minutes talking to them, you would know it too," Edmund said. "They're not always good people, but then, neither are we."

"You dare compare us to them? These things that grub around in the dirt, that can't even do anything for themselves!" Yaxley's eyes widened, seemingly truly outraged, as if the very thought was inconceivable to him.

"Just think about it for once," Edmund urged. He knew it was futile, but he had to try. "They've built cities that are a thousand times bigger than wizards have ever made, and they've made things that should have been impossible."

The Williams boy had unlatched the gate and was ushering his parents through. He was looking at Edmund, and though it could have been Edmund's imagination, he thought the boy understood what Edmund was giving up for him.

"Disgusting half-blood," Yaxley hissed, hands clenching white around his wand. "The filth in your veins is too much for even decent wizarding blood to overcome."

The Williams boy looked back at Edmund one last time, and then followed his parents through. It swung shut slowly, closing with a small click that Edmund knew spelt his death.

Yaxley whirled around at the noise. It only took him a moment to realize what had happened. Snarling, he turned back to face Edmund, wand coming up. Edmund readied his own wand, his heart working overtime, determined to get in as many beats as possible before it stopped.

"You," Yaxley growled, brutal-face scrunched up in rage.

"If we run after them we can still kill them before they hide," spat the Death Eater with a twisted face.

"You're not going to chase after them," Edmund said, locking the gate with a flick of his wand. It wouldn't stop them, or even slow them down, but it made sure the Death Eaters knew they would have to kill him first.

"Three against one?" Yaxley laughed. "You won't last a minute."

"I don't have to last a minute, just long enough for the Williams to get far enough away to lose you," Edmund swallowed a lump in his throat. He thought of his wife's face one last time, the feeling of her hand in his.

Yaxley's mocking smile faded, as he stared at Edmund curiously. The other two Death Eaters pointed their wands at Edmund too. Edmund forced himself to smile. He was going to do the right thing, and he hoped his son would be able to see that someday.

The four Wizards stared at each other for another moment, in this strange atmosphere of Muggle objects that none of them belonged in.

One of them twitched, a small motion that in ordinarily would have gone unnoticed. Edmund sent a jinx toward him, and that set the others off.

The fight was short. Edmund had to keep all three of them busy, or else risk one of them running after the Williams. He was no match for the three well practiced Death Eaters, and it took only half a minute before the Death Eater with a the twisted face hit him with a curse that made his legs go numb. Yaxley sent a different curse that dislocated his left shoulder. Edmund stumbled to the ground, legs giving out completely.

He tried to get up, ignoring the amused looks the Death Eaters exchanged. It took him almost ten precious seconds before he was able stand up. It took three seconds for the Death Eaters to knock him back down, one leg mangled so badly that he would have been left with a limp for the rest of his life.

Edmund Anderson had just enough time to hope that he had done enough before a jet of green light stuck in the face, ending his hopes once and for all.

 **A/N: Yes, it was a little generic, but in my defense, it's just sort of how the story came out. I'll change it up next time.**

 **Thanks for reading, and may your travels be ever safe.**


	3. Tracy Davis

**A/N: the most important thing to note before we get started is that the main character of this chapter, Tracy Davis, is not an OC. That being said, she was mentioned maybe once in the books, so I feel pretty confident that she's the next best thing.**

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The Tunnel was crude but worn smooth, the only light coming from brass lamps that sent flickering shadows as people walked in front of their light. Had Tracy had the time to think about it, she would have supposed that this tunnel had been here forever.

Tracy Davis however, had no time to think of tunnels. She was at the head of a mass of students fleeing the school through the tunnel, and with all the crying and yelling and stomping of feet, she was having a hard enough time trying to plan ahead without wondering how this tunnel had come to be here.

Tracy figured the easy part of tonight would be getting the students out of Hogsmeade. They had Apparition, the Knight Bus, and Floo powder to get people out. It wouldn't be fast, but it was fairly uncomplicated. The problems arose when you factored in Slytherin house.

Pansy would lead a lot of the Slytherins to join the Death Eaters. Many of the Slytherins would have parents or siblings out there fighting with the Death Eaters. It didn't ake a great leap of logic to see that they would fight with their families, and Tracy didn't blame them; it _would_ be safer in the long run to fight for the side most likely to win.

Most of those who didn't rush after Pansy would leave, either because they were too young, or because they knew better then to try and help. Tracy didn't doubt that Horace Slughorn would be in that number; he would never join the Death Eaters, but his only loyalty was to his self-preservation instinct.

And then there would be a small third faction. The part that was too smart to stay and be killed, but too stupid to know when to give up. They would stay and help, whether by Apparating people out or getting reinforcements. Tracy knew that it would likely only be her and two or three others helping, but she was determined to do her part.

Pansy nudged her, butting her out of her meaningless musing. Tracy turned her head to look at her, and Pansy shouted over the tumult "Almost there!"

Sure enough, there was a doorway of sorts a few hundred feet in front of them. As they grew closer, Tracy could see it led to the inside of a building—a second storey of a building, if the window was anything to judge from. There was a thin old man sitting at a table watching them. His expression was unreadable as he watched them clamber out; his blue eyes flickered over them, but he made no move to stop them as the Slytherins made a beeline for a set of steep stairs that led downstairs. For their part, the Slytherins glanced over him once, than ignored him in favour of focusing on the task of managing the stairs.

Tracy followed them down, leaving room for the others to come through. The downstairs of the building was no less shabby than the upstairs. Tracy could see it was a pub of some kind, though not one she had ever frequented before.

Pansy led the way toward the door in the front of the room, using her wand to shove the tables in her way to the side. Tracy thought she might go through it right away, but she stopped just short of the handle and turned to face the room, waiting. The rest of the students poured into the room, bustling in after her. When it became clear that Pansy wasn't going through the door just yet, they settled on whatever furniture they could find. The roomed filled with creaking and muttering as they Slytherins leaned against the furniture, talking quietly to each other.

"You know what we have to do," called Pansy shrilly, as the last few Slytherins pushed into the crowded pub. They were all mostly older Slytherins, though Tracy could spot a few younger ones as well. She guessed that the older ones had forced their way to the front, leaving the younger ones to try and find a good spot to try to listen to Pansy.

"It's simple, right?" Pansy asked the crowd, doing an admirable job of keeping her voice steady. "If we fight with our families, we'll be doing the right thing. Those still in the castle made their choice, and they choose the bloody path. We'll just be doing what needs to be done!"

Some of the Slytherins shouted approval, and Pansy pushed open the door to the outside. A loud scream rent the air as a Caterwauling Charm went off. Ignoring this, Millicent strode through the door and the Slytherins hurried after her, knocking into each other in their haste to get in line. While most of the attention was diverted toward the door, Tracy caught several of the older Slytherins Apparating away, presumably wanting no part in this war.

Tracy had to admire Pansy's speech. She had always been able to play a crowd well, whatever else her faults were. She was clever too; making sure the room was full before starting. More of them would feel the urge to go if their peers were all running out, though Tracy knew for a fact that a few of the people who had run out would be making for a spot where they could Apparate and had only run so it wouldn't look suspicious.

"Fancy you still being here?" said a voice in Tracy's ear, and starting, she turned to see Pansy standing behind her, her wand noticeably in her hand. "It's almost like you're not coming."

"I have something to do first," Tracy said, motioning toward the stairs with her head. The words were deliberately vague. Tracy might be on the opposite side of Pansy, but she was going to leave herself enough room to make sure she could still come claim innocence if the battle went bad, just in case.

"Of course," agreed Pansy, and Tracy knew she didn't believe her. "But surely nothing can be more important than what's going on out there."

Tracy knew Pansy was giving her a second chance to change her mind. Perhaps it was a tribute to being in the same dorm for seven years, but Tracy was still surprised Pansy would offer her another chance.

Tracy was tempted, really tempted, for a second; Less than a second, a half second. She knew that her elder brother would be out there, getting ready to fight against Hogwarts. She could join him. It would make her family proud of her again

But the second passed quickly, and Tracy had made up her mind months ago, really years ago now. She knew what she was going to do, and it was too late to be tempted any longer.

The wailing from outside cut off suddenly as someone finally took care of the caterwauling charm.

"Just one thing to do first," Tracy said, knowing that Pansy would take it for a refusal it was.

Pansy gazed at her, looking hurt, but Tracy remained unmoved, knowing it was just an act. Finally, after a long second, Pansy said, "We'll I'm going to go then."

"Good luck," said Tracy, knowing nothing less was expected of her. Pansy left, joining a crowd of fifth-years and Tracy knew that if the Death Eater's won the battle, at best she would be labelled a coward for the rest of her life.

Tracy turned back to the room, focusing on the task at hand. It was refilling with a mixture of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, though there was quite a few Slytherins still getting out of the door. Tracy actually had to look down as a gaggle of third-years lined up, and she sighed. Taking out her wand, she flicked it at the door, which flew closed, almost slamming shut on a boy's nose.

"Hey," said the boy in forefront of the third years, a cry echoed by half of the Slytherin fourth years in line behind him. "I need to get through."

"No you don't," Tracy told him.

"We do," called a fourth year girl behind them.

"I can't let anyone of you fight," Tracy said firmly.

"Why not, we can fight good enough," said the third year boy angrily.

Tracy eyed him a moment before hitting him with a Knockback Jinx.

"oof," grunted the boy, clutching his stomach. He would have fallen if the boy behind him hadn't caught him. "You make a strong argument."

"I know," Tracy said. She caught the fourth year girl eyeing the side entrance to the pub and waved her wand in front of the girl's eyes to get her attention. "Don't even think about it."

One of the older Slytherins still in the room—one of the Higgs boys whose names Tracy could never remember—crossed to the door and flicked it shut with his wand.

At least someone's on my side, thought Tracy. Unconsciously, she twisted the end of her hair and stuck it in her mouth. It was a nervous habit she thought she had broken years ago, and later she would wonder what spell had made her hair into a mess of split ends. Right now though, she was too busy watching the room to notice what she as doing.

The room was rapidly filling up again, and upstairs Tracy could hear some kind of outburst. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were standing around the room, wearing worried faces. Some of the older ones were kneeling down and reassuring the younger ones that everyone back at the castle was going to be alright.

It was a lie, Tracy knew, but she would have done the same thing to keep people calm. What she was really looking for was the person who looked like they were in charge. There was always one in a crowd, if you knew what to look for.

There. It was so obvious that Tracy was a little surprised it had taken her so long. Tall, with stringy brown hair and a lean build, he looked like he might be in his seventh year. It wasn't the physicality that interested Tracy however; it was how everyone looked at him like he knew what he was doing.

She grabbed the oldest looking student she could find and dragged the unsuspecting witch toward the door.

"What?" asked the witch, struggling, but Tracy pushed her toward the door before she could get her wand out.

"Stay here and make sure no one else leaves," barked Tracy.

"But—" started the other witch.

"You. Stay. Here." said Tracy, more insistently this time. She waited until the witch had nodded, then turned back toward the wizard in charge. She pushed and shoved her way closer, ignoring the protests of those she rammed aside.

"David, get anyone who's passed their Apparation test to start Apparating people out of here," said the wizard. Up close, Tracy realized he was younger then she had first thought, at least a year younger than her. "If Anna runs out of Floo Powder upstairs, come get me and I'll scrounge up some more from the neighbours."

"As soon as the battle starts, we can use the Knight bus," Tracy offered.

"And you are?" said the wizard.

"Tracy Davis," said Tracy holding out her hand, though she didn't expect the wizard to shake it; after all, Slytherins didn't exactly have good reputation after everything that had happened this year.

The wizard hesitated, but stuck out his hand, surprising Tracy, though she was pleased. Shaking hands meant acknowledging that they weren't on completely different sides.

"Jason Axe," said the wizard. "But why the devil don't we use the knight bus now?"

"There's still bound to be Death Eaters in the village, not to mention my classmates," replied Tracy, putting a scowl on her face. The more this Jason thought she detested the other Slytherins, the more willing he'd be to work with her.

Because the truth was, she didn't detest them. After all, they were just doing what was expected of them.

"But it we wait until the battle starts, they won't be worried about the Knight Bus in Hogsmeade," Tracy completed her thought.

"We don't have enough people who can do side along-Apparation to move many at a time," said Jason, sounding tense, obviously frustrated at leaving his friends at the castle. "It's going to take too bloody long with no matter what we do, and the Knight bus is going to have to serve as the main way to get people out."

"I know, but it's going to have to wait a bit," Tracy shot back.

Jason nodded, clearly not happy about the situation. "Can you Apparate?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll start grabbing some people," said Tracy. She needed to get rid of the Slytherins who wanted to fight first, before they could cause any trouble. They might be too young to fight in a full battle, but a few well placed Stunners could bring down the fragile calm Jason had managed to bring to the overcrowded pub.

"Great," said Jason, already leaning down to look at a first year as Tracy made her way back to the door. "Where do you live?"

More people were crying now, even some of the older ones who should have known better. Tracy supposed she shouldn't be surprised. The mix of emotions was powerful, and you could see on everyone's faces just how scared they were.

"You," said one of the fourth year girls who had wanted to fight, as Pansy finally made her way over. "You need to let us help our families!"

"Do I?" asked Tracy haughtily. She got a hold of the girl's arm. The girl gave Tracy a dangerous look, but Tracy had already turned in place, reaching for the darkness.

She could feel the girl fighting her, swearing violently. Tracy tightened her grip, and tugged her along into the suffocating feeling.

They landed heavily in a young forest. It was abandoned now, but Tracy could picture it as it had been almost four years ago now, when it had been full of wizards, excited to see Krum seek the snitch…

But that was a world away, before Tracy had grown up and seen the world in all its shades of grey. That was when Muggles were just filth, and Wizards were the ones who needed to take back the world.

"Where did you take me?" demanded the girl, wide-eyed as she glanced around the trees.

Tracy let go of her arm, and the girl snatched it to her body, looking scared that Tracy might take it back.

"A forest," Tracy told her helpfully, Apparating away before the girl could reply.

The pub was still just as full as it had been when she left it, and before she had fully recovered, one the girl's friends had grabbed Tracy by the robes.

"Where is she? What did you do to her?" demanded the girl. She shook Tracy roughly.

"I'll take you to her," Tracy replied. She couldn't believe this girl had let herself get so close to the witch that had, not even a minute ago, Disapparated with her friend.

The girl had just enough time to let out a single "bugger" before Tracy had caught a hold of her arms and turned on the spot.

Tracy took her to the same forest. Not the same spot, she wasn't that stupid. The first girl was probably already waiting to stun Tracy when she arrived. No, this time Tracy opted to Apparate where the Quidditch pitch had been.

This time she was gone before the girl had a chance to say anything. She still had a lot more to move.

She repeated the same thing a half dozen more times. Though the rest of the Slytherins who wanted to fight weren't stupid enough to get close to her after what had happened the second witch, she managed to persuade the rest to go with her. She dropped them off at the same forest, choosing a spot that was different for each one. With any luck, they would be able to find each other, and Tracy would be able to come back for them later. If they were unlucky… well, the Aurors would be able to find them easily enough.

By the time she had fought off the last boy she had taken and returned back to the pub, the rest of the Slytherins had disappeared. Tracy chewed on her hair again, considering. She hadn't wanted them to tell their parents what was happening, but there were worst things that could happen.

The Pub was still just as overcrowded. For a minute, Tracy considered leaving the evacuation to Jason and the others and leaving to get reinforcements now, but quickly discarded that idea. There was simply no way for her to get enough people in time.

The students were crowding in on her, recognizing that she was someone who could take them home, all of them expressions wearing of barely restrained fear. They just wanted to go somewhere safe, somewhere that wasn't Hogwarts.

"It's midnight," someone called suddenly. The pub quieted down. They didn't know what they were listening for, but everyone was listening for it with all their might.

And then they heard it, a faint keening first, then a series of small pops that might have been explosions.

"My god…" someone said.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright," Tracy heard the oft repeated lie go around again, but even that sounded hollow against the knowledge of what was happening.

Tracy used the stunned silence to make her way to the front door without being harassed. Without hesitation, she shoved past the witch who was supposed to be guarding the door and forced it open. Outside, it was a crisp night with only a few clouds in the sky. On any other night, it would have been beautiful.

"Make sure no one follows me," Tracy said to the witch guarding the door, shaking the witch out of her stupor. Tracy waited until the witch nodded before walking out into the night, wand at the ready. It should be safe, but Tracy wasn't going to take any chances.

The side street where the pub resided was empty. From here Tracy couldn't see Hogwarts, but she could hear the battle. Reason told her that she shouldn't be able to hear the screams, but she thought she could hear some floating down to her on the wind.

Tracy strode toward the main street, wand clutched tightly in her hand. The shops were closed, but Tracy could see lights coming from some of the buildings. Of course the residents of Hogsmeade would have heard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but Tracy was surprised they weren't pretending to sleep.

Tracy reached the main road without incident. Unwillingly, her eyes turned toward the distant castle. She couldn't make out much, but even from this distance, she could see the lights flashing through the air, lighting up the grounds like some bizarre display.

"Pretty, huh?" said a voice behind her. Tracy whirled around, wand pointing right at the source. There was a half dozen Slytherins standing there, wands out and arms crossed. Tracy focused on the witch who had spoken. Caitlyn Pucey, a Slytherin only a year younger then Tracy, had her wand pointed directly at Tracy's heart.

"Pansy send you?" asked Tracy, lowering her wand slightly, fighting to keep the frustration out of her voice. Though it looked unthreatening, her stance meant that she could still hit Caitlyn in the knees.

"Pansy?" laughed Caitlyn, a sour note entering her voice. "No, we came back on our own."

"That was stupid," said Tracy, cursing her luck. She couldn't fight them all, and she had been stupid enough to go out on her own without anyone to back her up.

"No, it wasn't," countered Caitlyn. "They all think that we're fighting with them, so they have no reason to doubt us when we say we didn't help anyone get out of the castle."

"Wait, you're here to help?" Tracy said, taken back. It made sense. The running away made a very good alibi. In fact, Tracy was rather mad at herself for not doing the same thing.

"Yeah," said Caitlyn. "But I didn't figure Pansy would have someone waiting for us."

"I'm getting people out too," Tracy said. She was inclined to believe Caitlyn, whose family had never been even remotely connected to the Death Eaters, but she still kept her wand pointed at Caitlyn's knees.

"Really?" now it was Caitlyn's turn to be taken back. Nevertheless, her wand remained pointed at Tracy's heart. "How do you know we can trust you?"

"I don't know if I can trust you either," Tray shot back.

"That's true," said Caitlyn. She still didn't move. If Tracy had been in her spot, she would have just stunned Tracy, but apparently Caitlyn's mind worked differently. "We're at an impasse then."

"I guess so," said Tracy, chewing her hair thoughtfully. She could hear the pops behind her grow louder as more explosions rocked the distant castle. Tracy took a moment to think things over, trying to see all the angles. Really, the conclusion was a simple one; Caitlyn and her group had no reason to lie, since they outnumbered her, and therefore they were there to help, and Tracy was just getting in their way.

"Right," Tracy said. She straightened up, stowing her wand away with exaggerated slowness. "I think you're here to help. I'm here to help too, but if it makes you feel better, you can Stun me and take away my wand."

"You would really do that?" asked Caitlyn. Her wand wasn't as steady anymore, but it was still aimed at Tracy. "Just give yourself up?"

Tracy shrugged. "It's simple math really. The six of you can do more than the one of me can."

Caitlyn looked around at her group, which just shrugged at her. The choice was hers.

"What can we do to help?" asked Caitlyn at long last, pointing her wand at the ground, and Tracy breathed in a silent sigh of relief.

"Those of you who can Apparate, start getting students back to their homes," ordered Tracy. "Those who can't, use the Floo Network to notify as many people as possible about what's happening. If we're lucky we can get an army of our own."

With a nod, they ran off toward the pub, Caitlyn in the lead. They didn't exactly cheer, but they looked determined.

"You're really on our side, aren't you?" said Jason's voice from behind her. Tracy turned to find him staring at her with something close to wonder. Tracy wondered how long he had been standing there; then she wondered how he had managed to sneak up on her without her noticing him.

"Obviously," said Tracy. "This war's not as black and white as you think it is."

She didn't wait for Jason to say anything, just stuck out her right hand. With a _BANG_! The knight bus came rolling down the street, squeaking to a halt in front of Tracy.

"Hello, My name's Darren, I'll be your conductor—" started the bearded wizard from inside the bus, barely looking up from his newspaper. Tracy cut him off.

"I know who you are and what the Knight bus is."

"Well, miss, that's just rude to interrupt, that is," said the wizard, carefully folding up his newspaper.

Jason started back toward the Hog's Head, calling "I'll start moving them out here."

"Moving who out where?" asked the bearded wizard. "You don't get group rates you know."

"We need to move about two hundred people out on the bus," said Tracy, biting her hair again. "And we need you not to make anymore stops."

The bearded man looked at her for a long moment, before smiling and laughing heartily. He slapped his knee, saying "That's a good one miss, you almost had me. No stops indeed!"

Tracy Summoned his robes, dragging him out into the street. When he protested, she grabbed him and turned him to face the castle.

"You see that," hissed Tracy, her sparing a quick glance at the castle before returning her gaze to him. "I don't have time to play games with you. People's lives depend on the bus, and you will _not_ let them down by thinking this is some kind of bloody joke, you understand me? Cause if you do let them down, I'll curse you so badly that your own mother won't recognize you, then I'll do the same thing to the driver, then I'll drive the sodding thing myself! Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," said the wizard, eyes reflecting the lights coming from the castle. He still hadn't blinked, the shock of seeing Hogwarts like this still reflected in his face, and Tracy had the impression that seeing the castle like this had been many times more effective than her rant. "I'll pack in as many seats as I can."

"You'll pack in as many as the bus can hold," corrected Tracy. "Some might get a little bruised, but they'll be fine."

"But," began the conductor. He faltered when he saw the look in Tracy's eye and nodded. "Alright."

"Fantastic," said Tracy, stepping to the side, her eyes flicking back to the castle. Lights were still flashing from it, casting flickering shadows over Tracy even at this distance, so she knew that people were still fighting, though that was about all she could tell. She blinked as Jason's tall frame crossed her line of sight. He was leading a crowd of students. Almost without exception, every face was turned toward Hogwarts. People wore expressions of horror as they saw their school under attack.

"Jason, you move by me. Caitlyn, grab another person and stand on the other side, let's make sure no one gets it in their head to run off and join the battle," called Tracy, taking charge. "Higgs, you make sure that no one tries to stay in the pub.

Caitlyn grabbed one of the Slytherins that had come back with her and trotted to the spot opposite Tracy, her back to the castle. Jason moved over by Tracy, idly playing with his wand as he watched the first of the students stumble between Caitlyn and Tracy, climbing aboard the Knight Bus. The conductor stayed where he was at, helping some of the shorter students climb aboard.

Tracy watched as the first dozen or so people climbed on board before going back to look at the people filing out of the pub. Most of them were looking at the castle, but a few of them had their eyes focused on the older students guarding them, looking for a way out, but when they caught site of Tracy glaring at them they refocused their attention on the bus.

Tracy swept her gaze back and forth the line several more times, before allowing herself the luxury of looking at the castle. It was hard to believe that every flash of light belonged to someone fighting for their lives. Tracy turned back to the line, but not before she caught Jason also looking at the castle.

Tracy felt bad for a moment. If it was hard for her, it had to be many times harder for Jason.

"Hey, we're helping them," said Tracy, nudging him. She ignored the glares of some of the Slytherins fourth years as they passed her.

"What, you're not going to tell me that they're going to be fine?" said Jason, his gaze never leaving the castle.

"Nope," said Tracy flatly. She watched as Caitlyn gave the stink eye to a pair of Gryffindor that had broken from the line. Sulking, they rejoined it. "You're too smart to fall for that lie. You need to stay focused on keeping an eye on your people.

"Yeah," said Jason bitterly. "It's just that it's a bit hard knowing that the people in there are dying while I'm sitting our here.

"You're going to do more good out here then you would be doing in there," said Tracy.

"That's what Neville told me too," agreed Jason without conviction, watching David the conductor helping a tiny first year into the bus. "It might not be so hard for you, but ninety percent of my friends are in there."

"I know," said Tracy, feeling that this wasn't the time to point out that most of the people she knew were out there too. "But worrying about them isn't going to help."

"Of course not," said Jason. He watched as two more students forced their way onto the packed bus; Tracy could see people being crammed in through the windows.

All the same, over the next few minutes, Tracy caught him looking up at the castle an awful lot for someone who was supposed to not be worrying.

"That all them?" Tracy asked Higgs, as he stepped out of the pub. He nodded, but raised his wand anyway and pointed at the pub, muttering a few words under his breath.

"There's no one left in there," he said, nerves making his nod jerkier than usual.

"Good, Caitlyn, Higgs, get out of here and start getting as many people as possible. I don't care how you do it."

"Don't worry, we know what we're doing," said Caitlyn, as the boy next to her stepped onto the Knight Bus and disappeared from view. "I'll head home and grab my brother, he might help."

"I'm already on my way," said Higgs, as Caitlyn hurried back to the pub, turning on the spot and vanishing as soon as she was in the door frame. He also ran back to the pub, though he forwent Apparation and went upstairs, presumably to use the Floo Network.

"I'll stay here," said Jason. "I'll start breaking into people's houses, see if I can't rally them to fight too."

"Good idea," admitted Tracy, cursing herself for not thinking of that. She turned to the conductor "You, David—"

"Darren," corrected the conductor.

"Oh, _so_ sorry," said Tracy sarcastically. " _Darren,_ make sure you let off those closest to you first, it will go faster that way."

Tracy didn't both to add that it would also make sure that her fellow housemates got off last. Maybe that would help insure that they didn't try and get an older relative to join the fight.

Tracy doubted that it would matter, but it might.

"That's not the..." began Darren, but Tracy had already turned her back on him, and he trailed off, swearing under his breath.

"Not exactly the friendliest person, are you?" asked Jason, letting a small smile lift the corners of his mouth.

"What are you still doing here?" asked Tracy irritably. "And aren't we a little busy for friendliness right now anyway?"

Jason chuckled a little and strolled off down the street, his body language tensing up again as he started down the main street.

Tracy turned back to the bus, but it was already starting to move, trundling off slowly into the night. Tracy saw faces push against the windows as they drank the last sight of the castle before, with a bang, they shot away.

Tracy looked around, but she was quite alone now. The others were all gone. Tracy shrugged, heading back toward the bar where she could Apparate freely.

For the next few hours, she Apparated into every single village where she knew someone lived and banged on the wizarding families' doors until someone answered. She pushed her way in to their homes and told the story.

She repeated the same story over and over. She spoke in terse tones, explaining that Hogwarts was under attack, that He-who-must-not-be-named was leading the attack, how dozens of people must be dead by now, and how they could save the day.

They all listened to her, wide eyed. Not one of them questioned her, her haggard appearance and frantic tones convincing them. They all listened, but not all of them helped. Some threatened to toss her out, some agreed to come, though Tracy knew they wouldn't, some flatly told her they wouldn't help, and one or two of them even tried to Stun her, calling her a traitor.

For hours she repeated the same thing, occasionally running across someone else doing the same thing she was doing. It wasn't until the sun was already starting rising on the southern part of England that she returned back to Hogsmeade.

"Miss Davis, you came too!" said a voice that Tracy hadn't expected to hear. Turning, she saw the round form of Horace Slughorn sitting on one of the bar stools.

"Professor, I…um…" said Tracy, greatly taken back at the sight of her head of house. "I was just, um…"

"Gathering reinforcements, my dear, I know," said Slughorn. "Your young friend Jason told me to expect you, but I didn't…well, I didn't expect for you to actually come!"

"Likewise, sir," said Tracy, remembering how absent he had been when the students had been in the Hog's Head. In spite of her causal tone, her heart was still thumping at his unexpected appearance.

"I know, but, well, I'm here now," said Slughorn, and when Tracy opened her mouth to speak, he quickly continued on, "You probably missed it, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gave the survivors an hour break, and that's almost up."

"How many people came?" asked Tracy.

"Come see for yourself," replied Slughorn, waddling out of the door at a surprisingly quick pace.

"Slughorn," muttered Tracy to herself, still in disbelieve that he had come back.

"Miss Davis?" called Slughorn from the other side of the doorway.

"Coming sir," said Tracy, catching up with him just as he entered the main street. She was just about to repeat her question when she caught site of the crowd.

"Ah," she said. If she had been greatly taken back when she had seen Slughorn, she was now so taken back that she thought her mind might be moving sideways.

There were hundreds of people of people standing in front of the gates, some in travel cloaks and robes, but others still half-dressed in pyjamas. Some of the people there were people she had convinced to come, but many others were new to her, such a mix of faces and colours that Tracy was very taken back by it.

Numbly, Tracy followed Slughorn through the crowd to the front, past a muscled red-haired young man who was talking with his neighbours, to right in front of the gates. Jason gave her a wave, and Caitlyn nodded at her from the gate. Though Caitlyn was too young technically to be allowed to fight, Tracy figured no one would mind.

"You ready?" asked Jason, stringy brown hair hanging over his forehead. "I know everyone at Hogsmeade is."

"You did good," said Tracy, honestly surprised.

"Everyone ready?" yelled the red-haired man, looking about him. His face was a mix of fear and worry, but his voice had no trace of either in it.

There was a nodding of heads and muttering, but everyone looked resolved and ready to fight.

"Then let's GO!" he roared, from the middle of the pack, and to Tracy's surprise, Slughorn was first out the gate. The crowd followed, and Tracy found herself buffered along as people let out their own yells, almost deafening her.

Well, thought Tracy, there goes any chance for a sneak attack.

They won of course, pretty quickly after that. The Death Eaters hadn't expected an army to charge in from the rear, and certainly not such a big one. Afterwards, they celebrated and mourned, and for a while, no one cared or remembered that she was in Slytherin.

Later, of course, people would accuse her of being evil, of being one of the many Slytherins who had joined He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named. She would laugh at that, and carry on with her life. The important people—the ones that had fought with her—knew what she was.

* * *

 **A/N: I suppose it's a bit longer then my previous ones, but the story just kind of wrote itself, and I followed along revising it. I think it turned our pretty well though, and I always wanted to write something that made the Slytherins seem something other then the 'bad guys'**

 **As always, thanks for reading, and may your travels be ever safe.**


	4. Humble Stiles

**A/N: This is the first time I've ever tried to write in a style like this, and I have mixed feelings about how it turned out. I think that it's alright, but I don't think I'll write in this style again until I'm really ready for it.**

* * *

 _Daily Prophet_

 **THE HUMBLE HERO**

15/4/2008

By Tony Miriz

 _Editors note: The following story is a series of interviews gathered by Tony. Though by different people, they all tell the story of a man we shall call Mr. Stiles for privacy reasons. Mr. Stiles refused to be interviewed, citing that the reason that he had just done what everyone else had done. Because of this, Tony was forced to obtain different views for it. What follows is as a complete a tale as we could gather. Please note that these interviews were edited (with permission) to make a more seamless story._

* * *

"My son was always a stubborn son of bastard, but it went to whole new levels during the war. I know that he probably doesn't want his story told, but I think that now, when we remember all the people who died ten years ago, we should also remember the people who did their part to fight back, especially the ones who never got the recognition."

"I first saw him helping the wandless* as I was passing through Diagon Alley. It was toward the end of the day, and most of us were just eager to get home. I'm not proud to admit that I ignored the wandless who begged at the streets. It was winter, and most of them looked no better than beggars. It's not that I didn't want to help them you understand, but it was dangerous to do so, or at least looked down on, and so I did my best to ignore them."

"I was about halfway toward the Leaky Cauldron when I saw him. He was still in his work robes, but I knew my son well enough to make him out. The damn fool was out there, floating a giant cauldron of something steaming and handing out bowls to a crowd of the poor Muggle-borns. I'll admit, my first instinct was to see if there were any Death Eater's around to see him. My second instinct was to march over there and grab him before he got into trouble."

"He didn't like that too much, and before I had dragged him too far off, he had pushed me off and informed me that I could talk with him, but first he had to finish giving out clothes to the wandless. I wasn't overly pleased with that, but he was pretty firm with me, so I waited for him to be done."

"Once he had handed out enough broth to empty the cauldron, he went over to a great big bag he had lugged there and pulled out several sets of clean robes that he handed out. After that, he consented to look at anyone's injuries. I had grown quite worried by now, I don't mind saying. It had grown dark while I was waiting there, and I had already seen more than a few of the people passing giving us funny looks. I had tried to hurry him up, but both times he shook me off and told me to wait, and that he would be done when he was done and until then the best thing I could do was to not bother him."

"Well, at last, he finishes up, and he says 'well Dad, what did you want to talk to me about?' like it was no big deal what he had been doing. I dragged him over to the closest area which we could have a little privacy, a little nook between two shops that had closed down and I had a talk with him."

"I told him in no uncertain terms that what he was doing was stupid. I told him that it could cause serious trouble for him, that he could lose his job, that any number of things could happen to him. I was scared for him, and I think he saw that. He had to be spending a fair amount of gold to get the things that he was buying, and in those days, it was best just to keep your head down if you wanted to be safe. The less you stood out, the better as far as I was concerned."

"Well, my son just laughed at me, and said that he had figured I would say that. When I opened my mouth to retort, he shut it for me and told me that he had thought through everything. He knew what he was doing, and had already thought about the risks involved. I tried to protest, but he spoke over me and listed off every single one of the risks he was taking."

"Then, he told me, face to face, like I am to you now, that he had already thought through what he was doing, and he had come to the conclusion that he could face a little bit of danger if it gave the wandless some hope that things would go back to normal."

"There wasn't really much I could say to that, except that I was proud of him. And that he had always been this stubborn. I was still worried about him, but he could make his own decisions, and I could respect that. I went home and he went home. I told my wife, and to be honest, she wasn't too thrilled about it either.

"I started walking along Diagon Alley around dusk more often after that. Sometimes I saw him and sometimes I didn't. Maybe when I didn't see him I got worried, and maybe sometimes when I did see him I may have helped him, but the wandless I saw there always looked alive, and more often than not they looked hopeful."

* * *

"I've known my brother for a long time. I guess that most siblings could say that, but in our case, we've known each other for the respective entirety of our lives. I'm five minutes older than him, making me the wise one, and so I wasn't surprised when he showed up at the house where I lived with my husband."

"I knew what he was doing, and, honestly, I hated that he did it alone. I tried to join him once, but he told me firmly that I had a kid and a family, and he didn't, and that I had enough on my plate without trying to help him. And then less than a week after that, my nightmares come true and he comes knocking at my door."

"He was leaning pretty heavily against the door frame, and he was dripping blood from his nose. Like any sister, I hurried him in and started playing healer. It didn't take long for me to realize that he had somehow managed to let a few Death Eaters catch him helping the wandless."

"I told him that he should have been more careful, but he only grinned at me and asked me to not tell mum, like he was just a teenager who had just snuck out to fly on their parent's broom. I could tell that he was more shaken then he was telling, but I agreed to it. He wasn't going to stop, even now that it hurt him to sit up."

"He was going to go back to his flat, but I forced him to stay still on my sofa. My son was sleeping, and my husband wasn't too likely to be back tonight, so it was alright if he stayed here. I was terrified for him, about what could happen to him and I wished that I could help him. I told him as much, and he just laughed at me and said he didn't blame me. He said that he didn't have a family of his own to worry about, and that's why he could do it at all."

"I asked him about his us, his family, and he just shrugged at me. He got serious, and he said that we were all taken care of. He waved off my arguments about us still needing him. He understood how I felt. I knew that he had to do what he was doing, because he had never been the sort to stand by idly."

"So I let him go. It wasn't easy for either of us, but I let him get up and go home, knowing that every day he was in danger of getting injured by those who didn't care of his tending to the wandless."

* * *

"I was a friend of his way from way back during his Hogwarts days, and Stiles, as long as I've known him, always been an idiot, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. Me and a few others tried talking him out of what he was doing more than once, and every single time, he would just plough on through us."

"At first it wasn't so bad, but then he started showing up at my house with cuts and bruises. He looked like he had been getting into fights, and even the next day you'd see him, and the cuts and bruises would still be there."

"He wore it like a badge of honour though. It wasn't so bad in the beginning, when he would show up to work with these injuries once every few weeks, but it started getting worse. Soon it was once a week, then once every few days."

"I knew that he wasn't going to my house every time to get patched up, so I reached out. It turns out that there was about five of us that he would turn up to about once a week, bleeding over our doormats. Every time he would show up, we'd beg him to stop."

"Every time I'd say that, he would just shake his head like a pained dog and said that he wouldn't. All the time we'd see that it was getting worse, but nothing short of taking his wand away and locking him up would stop him."

"What could we do? It got to the point that I'd stay up and be ready to help him when he got there. He was, and still is for that matter, stubborn. He had his mind set, and there wasn't any amount of arguing that could make him change his mind."

"Our friendship got a little strained, but even near the end, he would still show up at my house and I would still do everything in my ability to heal him up. I still thought that he was being stupid, but this was my own little way of helping the wandless too. I knew that it wasn't much, but I was much too scared to join him when he went out. I guess that's why you're interviewing me about him instead of the other way around though."

* * *

"This Stiles guy, he was the only one who'd go out there to help us wandless every day. I mean, you'd occasionally run across a witch or wizard who'd help, but for the most part, everyone'd just leave you alone, and that was that. It's not that they didn't feel bad for us, but their own lives were dangerous enough without them helping us."

"Things were bad out there, especially during the winter months. Most of us, though Muggle-born, had long sense grown used to the magical world, and I doubt that any of us living out there had anybody left in the Muggle world to help us. Without our wands, it was...well, it was like living like a Muggle again. It was a hard thing for most of us to try and make the transition away from magic. And that's not even saying anything about having to stay alive, begging for gold and eating from the one place that would dare to serve us."

"I understand why people didn't help us, that was easy. But then came along this guy, who'd make sure that we were clothed, fed, and then heal us up as best as he could. I never got that, you know? I could never understand why this guy would go out, and right under the Death Eater's noses, help us. And this was before some of the Death Eaters started waiting for him even."

"Every day, until the wars sudden end, he'd be there, looking more and more like a walking corpse then a human. And then for the next few days after the war ended, he was out there, making sure we found our families, making sure that we got back up on our feet."

"And then after that, he disappeared. He was gone before most of us had a chance to thank him for all he had done, for giving us the hope that things would get better out there. I thought I saw him a few times after that, but when I went to get a closer look, he'd always be gone."

"So this is my thank you to him, wherever he is, and whoever he is. Thank you for saving my life. Without you, my daughters and wife wouldn't have a father and husband."

* * *

During this year, when we remember all the heroes, both living and dead, the _Daily Prophet_ would like to take a moment to remember those who either never got, or never sought credit for what they did. Though unknown, these heroes will not be forgotten.

*term commonly used at the time to refer to Muggle-borns that had their wands taken away by the Ministry.

* * *

 **A/N: Like I said, I think that it turned out ok, but it's far from the favourite story I've ever written. It took a lot of work to try and make the story feel natural, and even then I'm not sure that I did.**

 **Thanks for reading, and my your travels be safe.**


	5. Donovan and Powell

**A/N: So, I know I haven't updated in a while. This one was a rough one for me to finish. But it's done now, and I'm pretty pleased with it, though I hadn't planned for it to be quite so long.**

* * *

"We've got another case," said Donovan, slapping a hand on the side of his partner's cubicle. He was a big man, still quite young, and the sound cut through the busy office like a like a Dark Mark in the night.

"Would you keep it down?" growled a voice. "Some of us have actual work to do."

"Sorry Mad-Eye," said Donovan, meaning it. Even though he had worked here for three years, Mad-Eye still awed him a bit. "You hear me Powell? Another case?"

"S'already?" said Powell, slowly sitting upright. His eyes were droopy with exhaustion. "How long has it been since the last one?"

The taller Auror checked his watch. The tiny thing looked out of place against his burly frame. "Nearly fifteen minutes, but if you squint a bit, you might be able to claim that it was sixteen."

"We've been working two days straight, and the biggest break we've had is an hour," grumbled Powell, standing up and stretching. As soon as he stood up it was clear just how much shorter he was then his partner. "What's it this time?"

"Another attack at a Muggle residence," reported Donovan, scratching at some stubble as he waited for the other man to grab his wand. Together they started toward the exit. "We only caught it because a kid had their trace activated by the Killing Curse, and since the Dark Arts were involved, we get to go and clean up."

Neither of them rushed. Though the two of them had only been working for the Aurors for a combined tally of four years, they had seen this happen too many times since they had started to have any hope that anyone was still alive.

"Another attack?" asked Powell, the exhausted lines looking out of place his young face. "This is what, the third body this week?"

"And a kid this time," Donovan let out a heavy sigh as they cleared the last of the cubicles. "Bloody Death Eaters."

"In complete fairness, it might have been the kid who started it," said Powell, as they turned into the corridor to the lifts. "He wouldn't have been the first one whose tried to get revenge."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working," said Donovan.

"I didn't think that would," admitted Powell, stopping in front of the lifts. "But I thought I'd give it a try."

"Thanks," said Donovan flatly.

The lift doors opened with a little "ding" and the two Aurors stepped aside as a harried looking Barty Crouch, his toothbrush moustache quivering, strode through them, never even looking at them in his haste.

"Good day to you too sir," muttered Powell, entering the empty lift. He waited for the more senor Auror to squeeze in before he pressed the Atrium button. With a bang and a shudder, the lift started downward.

Five minutes later, the pair of them were scrambling up to the top of a hill, the rapidly sinking sun at their backs. Following procedure, they had Apparated over a mile away, on the chance that Death Eaters had set up enchantments against it.

The hill was both tall and steep, and the summer breeze did little to stop the men from sweating as they climbed. At several points, the two men were forced to climb on all fours to get over a few of the rougher spots.

"Nearly there," puffed Powell, after nearly twenty minutes of nonstop climbing.

"Fantastic," said Donovan flatly, hand going up to scratch at his stubble as he waited for the shorter man blocking his path to pull himself to the top.

"Next time, we're going to Apparate to the top of the hill," grunted Powell, hoisting himself to the top of the hill and sinking down to the ground, wiping sweat from the top of his head.

"Well," observed Donovan, clambering to the top of the hill to sit next to his friend. "It's not really that bad, if you don't keep stopping, like one of us kept doing."

"I seem to recall that we had a mission around here somewhere," said the other man sourly, running his hand through his hair. "That the place?"

He nodded his head to what might have been a large farmhouse situated in an empty valley, a handful of other assorted buildings clustered around it. The sun had already dipped beneath the crest of the hill, casting the collection of isolated buildings into an ominous shadow that both the Aurors noticed, but didn't remark on. They had long since given up wondering why these sorts of things seem to take place just as it was getting dark.

"Think so," said Donovan, looking down on it. "You see anything?"

"No sign of damage, lights still on, can't see anyone," reported Powell, frowning a little as he squinted down. "They could have cleaned up."

"It's not like Death Eaters to clean up after themselves," said Donovan. "Something's off here, I can feel it."

The two men stood there for a moment, racking their sleep-deprived brains for what was wrong with the scene.

"You're probably just feeling the urge to take a nap," Powell told him at last. "But let's take our time in any case."

The two of them started down the hill, casting measured glances at the farmhouse every minute or so. The only movement came from a lone cow that wandered in a nearby field, stopping here and there to eat.

At last, the two men stopped next to a shed with a pile of pallets stacked nearby, darkness truly starting to fall now. Hunkering down next to the quiet building, they took their time examining the house. Not exactly what the usual procedure for the recovery of a body, but a little caution never hurt.

The farmhouse was an old fashioned, two storey building, walls grey with age. A few old farm tools lay scattered around the lawn, half hidden by the long grass. To the left there was an ancient barn. To the right was a chicken coop, a steady light still shining from its one grimy window.

"Yeah," said Donovan. He had stopped examining the house and had pulled out his wand, waving it about in thin air. "It's a good thing we didn't Apparate much closer than we did, else they would have had to send a team in to put us back together. Guess that's why the higher-ups won't let Aurors Apparate directly onto the scene anymore, Eh?

"See that?" Powell nodded toward one of the upper windows. His tone was still neutral, but his eyes were suddenly wide in alarm. "I thought I saw a something at the window."

"There's a Caterwauling Charm around the house, looks like we're just outside it," Donovan waved his wand again, then frowned. "Why would the Death Eaters leave a charm that warns them...Oh no."

"This isn't good," said Powell, ducking behind the shed, youthful face suddenly alert. "This isn't good at all."

"They're still here," hissed Donovan, scrambling for the shed as well. "The Death Eaters are still here, Powell!"

"I know," Powell's voice was quieter than it had been all evening. "This isn't just another body, their waiting for something."

"I don't think their expecting us," said Donovan, after a moment's consideration. "They'd at least make it look like a fight took place, and we've managed to sneak pretty close without meaning to."

"Good thing they're not that cautious, huh?" said Powell. Even in the semi-darkness, the sheen of sweat on his face was easily visible. They both knew that they'd messed up, and badly.

"They're wasn't even a Dark Mark," said Donovan, slapping himself in the forehead. "That's what was missing. We should have noticed."

Powell nodded silently. Even though he had only been on the job a year, he shouldn't have missed such an obvious clue.

"We've must have some sort of luck, if they don't know we're here," marvelled Donovan. "They know about the trace, and they still weren't prepared for us."

"Maybe the kid looks older then they are," said Powell, running his wand-free hand through his hair. "The real question is if the kid's even still alive."

"Either way, we should get reinforcements, see if we can't fill up the cells of Azkaban a little tonight." said Donovan. "I don't fancy tying to take out any Death Eaters by ourselves, and it's hard to successfully rescue someone while you're outnumbered."

"How hard?" asked Powell curiously.

"Maybe if we were Dumbledore and Moody, we might be able to pull it off," said Donovan, shaking his head. "The only way we're going to do it is to get all the Aurors we can over here as soon as possible."

Alright, you head back and I'll stay here and try to see how many there are," said Powell.

"No, you go, I'll stay," said Donovan, peeking around the shed. He stopped when he noticed the Powell wasn't moving.

"You're fitter then me, you can make it out of here faster," pointed out Powell.

"You're what? Twenty-one?" argued Donovan. "How out of shape could you be?"

"Twenty-two now," said Powell, scowling up at the taller man. "And you're what, Twenty-six? Mike, we both know you're fitter then me.

"That's why, if anything happens, I'd be a better pick to get the kid out of there," said Donovan, gesturing vaguely at the silent house.

"You just told me that it's nigh on impossible to get the kid out of there with two of us, not to mention one," said Powell. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Just shut up and get going."

And then, before Donovan could open his mouth to do something that probably wasn't going to involve shutting up and going, a scream came from the house. Not a brief scream, but a long scream of the sort that only came from pure agony. Starting strong, it quickly puttered out. Though the two Aurors were too far away to hear it, they both imagined sobbing at the end of it.

"Guess the kid is still alive," said Powell, completely deadpan.

"Right, you run out, grab the rest of the department, and hurry back," said Donovan, real urgency in his tone for the first time. "I'll sit here and try to find us a way in."

Powell was already shaking his head when another scream rang out. This one was even more protracted, and it had scarcely died out when another one took its place.

"Hear that? That's the Cruciatus. I don't think the kid inside there had time to wait. How long do you think he can hold up before his mind breaks? Besides, as long as the boys in the Improper Use of Magic office are paying attention, they'll realize that the trace is being activated again."

Donovan looked into his partner's face, looking like he wanted to argue, but after a moment he looked away. Whatever he saw on that face convinced him that this wasn't an argument he could win.

"I know it's probably a lost cause, put I'll be damned if I don't give it my best shot," said Powell, determination set on his face, a face that should have been too young to have such deep lines on it.

Donovan was peering over the top of the chicken coop before Powell had finished speaking, all business. He did, however, spare a glance at his partner. "You never know, we might just pull this off."

"And the Chudley Cannons might finally win a match this year, but I still wouldn't bet on it," said Powell, joining Donovan in peering over the roof of the chicken house, though he had to stand on the pallets to manage it. "The screams sounded like they're coming from the bottom floor, so at least we don't have to manage the stairs. See a way around the Caterwauling Charm?"

Another scream came from the house, but the two Aurors ignored it. They were professionals.

"I can't find a way around it. They've changed it somehow, I don't think that the counter-charm will work, though that's probably the point of changing it, isn't it?" Donovan scratched the stubble on his chin again. "The higher-ups are going to be thrilled about that."

"What about the cow we saw as we were coming down?" asked Powell.

"It's probably very tasty," admitted Donovan. "But I don't see how that's going to help us."

"I was more thinking that we could use it to set off the charm," said Powell. "If I can get between it and the house, it should be too difficult to get it to move."

"And then we use that distraction to get the kid out," finished Donovan. "That's not bad. I got the kid, you get the cow?"

"I got the cow," confirmed Powell. "And then we'll meet over there, in that old barn. We can use it to block the Death Eater's view of us as we run away heroically."

Donovan turned his head to look in the barn in question. Its sturdiness was dubious at best.

"Don't do anything heroic, Powell," he said, turning back to look at the house. "Just get the cow moving and get back to the barn. Anything else and I'll let Moody give you the hero talk."

"Don't worry," said Powell. "We're probably going to die before that."

Donovan turned to look at Powell when he heard that, but Powell had already run off into the darkness.

"Good luck," he said, before he turned back to ready himself for what he was about to do.

Donovan said something, but Powell was already out of earshot, moving stealthily toward the far field, the air rushing past his ears. He skirted well around the house and the yard around it, hopping two fences before he reached the field that the cow was in.

The house shone like a beacon in the darkness, light steadily pouring from its windows, and Powell turned toward it, taking a moment to reorient himself to the change of scenery.

And then he was off again, moving toward the dark shape of the cow. Moments later, he stopped again, wary of spooking the cow. He hunched down, minimizing his outline against the sky, and considered the scene in front of him.

The cow was twenty or so feet in front of him. The house was almost seventy-five yards away. The fence around the field was roughly thirty yards in front of him. A quick check told him that the charm's boundaries was thirty-five yards in front of him, meaning that the cow would have to go through the fence to activate it. Clearly, whoever had set it up had foreseen that danger.

Powell muttered an extremely rude word under his breath. The only way to get the cow to trigger the Caterwauling Charm was to break through the fence, which meant that, unless the Death Eaters were complete idiots, they'd realize that cow had been 'helped' when it activated the charm.

Powell swore again. It seemed like the distraction had turned into a diversion, and it had to be said that Powell had never liked diversions, especially ones that used him as bait.

As the kid screamed again, Powell shrugged his shoulders helplessly and readied himself for the worse. Then, with a simple motion and a mumbled incantation, Powell made a portion of the fence topple over, leaving a ten foot or so gap in it.

No one came to investigate. Why would they? A sound of a fence falling couldn't be heard over the screaming.

Powell angled himself so that the cow was between him and the gap, then, with a little jinx he had learned during his Hogwarts days, he burnt the cow.

It wasn't much of a burn, barely noticeable at first, but within seconds the cow was starting to moo frantically as it tried to get away from the stinging in its backside. Powell grimaced slightly in sympathy, but kept at it, steering the cow toward the gap.

It almost smacked into the fence, but it managed to get through, squealing in pain as it charged right for the charm.

"Sorry," muttered Powell, letting go of the jinx and covering his ears. It was about to get really loud.

Two seconds later, the charm activated with a wailing shriek that could be heard for miles in this empty valley. Three seconds after that, both Powell and the cow involuntarily flinched as the door flew open and three Death Eaters ran out of it, silver masks shining like beacons in the night.

The smallest Death Eater yelled something that was lost in the wailing. The thin one pointed toward the panicked cow, gesturing wildly. The biggest one broke into laughter as he watched the second Death Eater continue his whip-like motions. Powell watched as the thin Death Eater stop gesturing and made a very rude gesture with his wand-free hand.

The big one snarled and started to advance on the thinner one, but the third Death Eater pointed his wand between the two of them and shot a jet of bright green light. With uncanny precision, it hit the cow.

The cow keeled over at once, quite dead. The two other Death Eaters turned to look at the cow, then turned as one toward the one who had cast the curse. Even from the field, Powell heard the mingled shouts, though the yelling and wailing of the Caterwauling Charm made it impossible to make out exactly what they were saying.

The third Death Eater, who evidently was in charge, made a sharp jab with his wand, and the Wailing abruptly cut off.

"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME, YOU LITTLE TWAT,—" shouted the big Death Eater at his leader, pausing for breath. He undoubtedly was about to say more, but the third Death Eater, talking quietly, pointed calmly at the fence. More specifically, he pointed at the gap in the fence.

It took three seconds for the other Death Eaters to register what they were seeing. Powell counted them carefully, waiting for the moment when—

"THERE'S SOMEONE HERE!" bellowed the big Death Eater, who seemed to have an aversion to speaking in anything below a shout.

Powell heard a crash and a yell from the house, and knew that Donovan must have encountered resistance in the house. Before the Death Eaters had time to react, he stepped forward and, without ceremony, shot a stunner toward the biggest Death Eater.

The Death Eater dodged it, displaying reactions faster than Powell would have believed possible for a man so large. The leader sent a stunner of his own toward the field, but in the near dark, Powell was a good as invisible, and it flew some twenty feet to his left. Powell retaliated with a silver jet; it hit the thin one and sent him flying into the porch, destroying the porch swing and likely breaking most of his ribs.

The Leader swiped with his wand, and some of the grass five feet to the left of Powell tumbled, cut at the base. Powell dived as the biggest Death Eater levitated the part of the fence Powell had knocked down and sent it toward where Powell had been instants before; it missed him with barely an inch to spare. Jumping to his feet, Powell sent a Blasting Curse toward the ground at the leader's feet, hoping to knock him to the ground, but it was deflected and soared behind him instead, where it hit the porch with large detonation.

"ROSIER!" screamed the big Death Eater in anguish, starting toward the flaming porch, but was stopped by the leader yelling something. Swearing angrily, the big Death Eater started toward the gate, deflecting another stunner sent his way by Powell with nothing more than a flick of his wrist.

Powell was already running back toward the barn he was supposed to meet Donovan, quite sure that he'd done all he could here, when the first explosion hit the field, the concussion of it hitting Powell like a blow from a wet towel. Powell doubled his efforts as flames sprang up from where the first explosion had come from. A quick series of curses hit the field, and before Powell was even halfway through it, he could feel the heat of the flames grabbing at his back.

One of the Death Eaters most have seen his shape moving, for three spells hit the ground near Powell in ten seconds, the last one knocking him off his feet and setting his ears ringing. Looking up, Powell quickly saw that most of the field was rapidly catching on fire. The good part of this was that the Death Eaters could no longer see him through the wall of flames in front of him. That bad news was that the flames were cutting him off from his planned escape route.

Powell climbed back to his feet, instinctively ducking as more explosions hit the field. He looked around, quickly assessed his options, and then swore; everywhere he looked, there was fire, its heat already starting to sting at him.

Powell took a deep breath and ran through the flame, heading straight toward the barn, no praying that Donovan was already there, waiting for him. lf Powell was hoping that this knowledge was going to protect him from the heat, he was wrong; he could feel the fire trying to climb up his robes, heat searing his skin in half a dozen places—

Then he was free of the flame. He hopped the fence and doused the parts of the robe that were flaming, ignoring the pain coming from his legs as he sprinted toward the distant barn. His eyes darted frantically side to side, watching for any spells that flew at him from the night, but nothing came at him, and he hopped the last fence and turned toward the barn.

There were spells lighting up the night, flying from the house, punching through the walls and leaving holes as they flew through. Once every five seconds or so, a light would shoot out of the barn, flying towards one of the windows of the house, or the door. Without slowing, Powell sent his own spell toward the door; it missed and hit the wall, which crumbled under the abuse it had taken, effectively preventing anyone from using the door. Almost at once, spells from the windows shot toward him, missing by the narrowest of margins, as the Death Eaters in the windows caught sight of him.

Powell burst into barn, leaping through one of the larger holes. Three spells hit the wall behind him, splintering it into a thousand different pieces. Powell scrambled five feet to the left, where the wall was still mostly intact, and saw Donovan leaning up against the wall.

"Took you're time," said Donovan lightly. "Shall we go?"

"The kid?" asked Powell, peering around in the light of the spells flying in.

"Dead," said Donovan. "They got me in the leg. I can't put any weight on it."

Spells flying around you had a marvellous way of cutting out the more idle parts of the conversation.

Powell peered down at Donovan's leg, the barn helpfully lighting up for a second by a spell that flew in through the one of the many holes.

"Yes," said Powell, his voice quavering slightly. "I can see why you can't put any weight on it."

"That bad?" asked Donovan.

"You have no idea," said Powell, taking Donovan's arm and putting it around his shoulders. They started moving as quickly as they could toward back of the barn, aiming for one of the bigger holes that led outside. Through it they saw an open field, and the very distant tree line. Somewhere between there and here they'd be able to Apparate, if they could just reach it in time.

They weren't moving very fast, but they managed to clear the old barn moments before it collapsed, falling with an agonizing slowness. The two Aurors couldn't help but look back as it fell with a thunder-shaking crash, drowning out anything else for a few seconds. By the time they looked forward again, they could hear the Death Eaters yelling behind them.

"I can't run with this leg," said Donovan, and it was true; already they were slowing down, Donovan grimacing every time he put any weight on his leg, and Powell was already panting with the effort to hold up the bigger man.

"Here," said Powell, after forty more painful yards, pointing to an old foundation dug into the ground, the possible remains of an old house that might have once stood there. It was shallow enough that it wouldn't shield them if they were standing up, but at the very least it would protect them from being seen, though of course, with magic, being seen was the least of their problems.

"You should get going, mate," said Donovan, gingerly hopping down into the outline of the building and collapsing against the low wall almost at once. "There's no way I'm going to be able to make it to the anywhere close to a point where we can Apparate away.

"And leave you behind?" asked Powell, peering over the top of foundation at the collapsed barn. Already there were shouts and yells coming from close to it, and the fire that had started in the field had begun to spread, lighting up the whole scene with a backdrop, blending in with what little was left of the sunset. "I'm pretty sure it says in the Auror's manual never to leave someone behind."

"It doesn't make sense for us both to die," said Donovan, shifting his injured leg, and biting back a yelp as he did so. "You know it's only going to take the Death Eaters a few minutes or so to find me, and you need that time to get a head start."

There were more yells, something about getting the wounded and making sure that the Aurors where dead. The two men ignored it as best they could.

"Let me take a look at your leg," said Powell, squatting down next to Donovan. It was almost too dark to see, even outside, but he was shaking his head almost before he could see it. "What curse did they even use?"

"Not sure," said Donovan, watching Powell examine the wound. "It was just after I saw the kid had already been killed—There was one in the kitchen, and the sound of us fighting must have spooked the one guarding him—I got the Death Eater watching over him, made it back to the kitchen alright, and I was almost out the door when one of them came at me from behind. I blocked the first one, but the second managed to get me," here he paused to gesture at his leg, his eye now staring into the dark. "Crafty little bugger. I managed to limp to the barn before it gave out completely, and that's where you found me."

There was a note of dejection in his voice as he finished. From the dark came the sound of arguing, as one of the Death Eaters swore loudly that he had seen the two Aurors get out of the barn.

Powell was nodding along as Donovan finished his story. "It wasn't your fault. The bad news is that there's no way that I can heal your leg. The good news is that I think that if we put it in a brace, you might be able to stand."

"Do that," said Donovan watching Powell again. "If I'm going to die, I'm going to do it standing up."

"That's the spirit," said Powell sardonically, starting to conjure bits of wood from thin air.

"I did fail you know," said Donovan, after a moment. Above them, the sound of pieces of barn being moved came from the night, along with more shouting. "We had a good plan, but I messed it. If I had could have gotten the one in the kitchen before he saw me, that poor kid might have been next to us, instead of dead."

"Better dead then what was happening to him," said Powell consolingly, taking a break from the brace to give his friend a pat on the shoulder. "You couldn't have done more."

"I might have done something to save him," said Donovan, helplessness filling his voice. His eyes were still staring into the dark, but if they had been looking at Powell, they would have reflected how he felt too. "But I didn't to a damn thing, and another innocent died. We can't save any of them Mike, can we? No matter how hard we try, people still die and disappear and die and all we can to his pick up the pieces. We can't do a damn thing to stop them."

"Greg," said Powell, as a shouted question came from the dark, followed by a series of negatives, shattered the quiet again. "I'm not going to lie, you did fail."

"Thanks Powell, you're always find the way to cheer me up," interjected Donovan before Powell could finish, wincing as Powell accidently touched his leg.

"Stop that," scolded Powell. "I'm not finished yet. Anyway, yeah, you failed, but you ran into a building full of Death Eaters, duelled two of them, beat both, got hit in the leg with a curse, and still managed to get far enough away to give them a good fight. You might have failed Donovan—but you didn't do nothing."

"Thanks," said Donovan, after a moment. "That actually was a good talk."

"I've been practicing, in case this ever happened," said Powell, as loud shout of "They're not here," floated down to them. "Brace's done."

"You can still get out of here you know," said Donovan, but it was clear that he didn't really believe that he could convince his friend to leave. "Just fade into the dark."

"I'm not scared of death," said Powell, then hesitated. "Well, maybe a little, but that's not going to stop me from dying."

"Any last requests?" asked Donovan, shifting his leg experimentally. This time he didn't wince quite as much, but it was still clear that he wasn't going to win any races on that leg.

"I want to be remembered," said Powell, as wandlight cut the air above them. The Death Eaters hadn't found the foundation yet, but it was going to be a matter of moments. "I mean, I know that what's left of our families—that's to say, your sister and my uncle—will remember us, but I want the people out there to remember me."

"Why?" asked Donovan. It wasn't a mocking question, but a sincere one.

Above them, more wandlight joined the first, and the shouting died down to a quiet muttering. The Death Eaters had gone on the hunt.

"I want people to remember me as a hero," said Powell, and in the faint light, he suddenly looked his twenty-two years for the first time in months. "I know it's childish, and we're all going to die someday anyway, but if you're remembered, it's like a small part of you isn't dead."

The wandlight fell on the other side of the foundation, and there was a sudden quietness that was so much worse then the shouting that had taken place seconds earlier.

"I can't say if you'll be remembered," said Donovan, grabbing his wand and preparing to stand up. He was speaking softly now, the last words that he was ever likely to speak. "But not being remembered doesn't mean you're not a hero. So many heroes have lived, and we'll never know their names. Doesn't mean they're not heroes. Try to keep that in mind."

This was a long speech, considering the circumstances, and the wandlight was getting brighter by the moment. There was only one or two still shining, the rest of the wands having been extinguished in preparation for what was about to happen. There was no doubt, the Death Eaters knew they were there.

"Let's do it," said Powell in a whisper, patting his friend on the back once.

The two men stood up as one, and started fighting their last fight.

* * *

The date was the tenth of August, 1979. It would take another two years for the Dark Lord to be defeated. During that time, sixteen more Aurors died. Neither Donovan nor Powell was ever recognized for their efforts. Neither were the other sixteen. But they died trying to make the world a better place.

They were remembered, at least for a short time. Eventually, time crept on and those who knew them, Moody and the other Aurors, their own families, eventually joined them in death. Before an hundred years had passed, no one remembered the two of them.

But that's alright, because that's how life works. Time passes, heroes fade, and new ones are born.

* * *

 **A/N: that's not the original ending I had in mind for this story, but I like how it ended. I'm already halfway done with the next one, so that should only take me two months or so, if I keep writing the at the pace I'm going at now.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Kayla Hunt

Kayla wasn't surprised to see that snow had started to gather on the roof of her tent, dulling the red light of the sunrise. During the night, she had awoken to find that the temperature had started to plummet. A few more blankets pulled over her had let Kayla drop off to sleep once more, but as she had discovered by now, it was the getting up in the morning that was the difficult part, not the falling asleep.

Still, months of sleeping under a tent had taught her that lying here wouldn't accomplish anything. She steeled herself, preparing to get up.

Five minutes later, after a short daydream where she imagined that she was still working at St. Mungo's, she was turning again to seek out the warmest parts of the blankets when a part of her, the part she liked to call annoying-little-voice-in-her-head, spoke to her.

 _You know, lying here isn't going to help,_ it said. Kayla groaned loudly and tried to cover her ears with a blanket. As might have been predicted, it didn't work, as the voice was in her head. _Staying in one spot just makes it more likely the Snatchers will catch up to you._

Kayla couldn't help but think that this was a low blow, feeding on her fears like this, but the little voice wasn't through yet.

 _If that doesn't get you up, I know what will,_ it threatened. _Remember, I have complete control of your bladder._

Kayla groaned again, but sat up, brushing blond hairs out of her face. As expected, the air was frigid, even with the four layers of jumpers she was wearing. She quickly gathered the blankets around her, holding them with one hand.

"You're an evil voice, you know that, right?" she said out loud. The voice didn't answer. Kayla had lately begun to wonder if talking to the voice meant that she was going crazy. It had been months now since she had had a proper conversation with anyone other than herself, and she couldn't help but wonder if that the lack of conversation wasn't starting to get to her.

 _Starting?_ asked the voice snidely. Kayla ignored it and forced the blankets off her, braving the cold.

An hour later, after repacking the tent and eating a quick breakfast, Kayla hoisted on her backpack and looked around. The snow was already filling in the area where her tent and the fire pit had been, covering them more effectively than she ever could have done, even if she had been willing to use magic.

"Well Voice," said Kayla, lightly smacking her leg to make sure her wand was still in her pocket. "Where to now?"

The voice said nothing.

"Now you don't have anything to say," said Kayla. She suddenly imagined how she would look if someone was watching her, a young women talking to the trees, and quickly put the thought out of her mind. "That's so typical of you."

The voice remained quiet, and Kayla let out a sigh, before she put the sun behind her, starting to walk in the direction she had chosen a week ago.

"Maybe I should give you a name," mused Kayla, automatically slapping her leg to feel her wand again as she let the clearing. "How about Harvey? You're a girl though, so maybe...Harvline?" Kayla pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Maybe not. Don't worry, we'll find something for you.

She didn't look back as she left the clearing. She never did.

Kayla kept walking steadily westward, only stopping for lunch. The day passed uneventfully, like every day in the last month had, but still Kayla kept a careful watch, never letting her eyes stay in one spot for more than a few seconds.

The wood was as quiet as only a forest in winter could be, the lone sound in the whole forest the crunching of Kayla's boots through the top layer of the snow. Even the birds weren't out, and Kayla found herself wishing that there was something besides her out here. She tried singing to herself for a bit, but that just sounded lonely, and she quickly stopped. The voice, as usual, refused to be drawn into any real conversation.

The snow had stopped a few hours into her hike, but by the time she deemed that she had walked far enough for one day, it had started to come down again, thicker and faster than ever. Kayla was too used the weather's sudden changes to be much interested by this. She started looking for a place to camp, passing up a wide clearing in favour of one that that was smaller, but more hidden to the casual passerby.

Kayla took off her pack with a sigh and leaned it up against a tree, rubbing the ache out of her shoulders before turning to make a more careful examination of the clearing.

It was nothing special, just a small, snow-covered glade surrounded by densely packed trees as far as the eye could see, not really any different than the last one she had camped at. Same snow, same trees as far as you could see. Kayla pulled out a shovel that should have been much too big to fit in out of her pack and started clearing a flat part for her tent. Working efficiently, she quickly had a space cleared. Then, resisting the urge to do it by magic, she went through the laborious process of setting up the tent by hand. It wasn't particularly big or special, but Kayla's hands were almost completely numb by the time she was done.

Slapping her hands together in an effort to get some blood flowing through them, she walked over and picked up the shovel again, quickly making a space for a campfire. Sneaking a glance around to make sure that she was alone, she quickly pulled several suspiciously large pieces of dry wood out of her backpack, along with a good amount of tinder and some matches.

After a solid fifteen minutes work, Kayla leaned back, feeling vaguely proud of herself as the fire started for real, the flame finally managing to get a grip in the wood. Feeling satisfied, Kayla moved toward her pack to ready the food. It would take a while for the fire to get hot enough to start cooking, but Kayla knew that it would be ready soon enough.

Humming under her breath, Kayla quickly did her preparations. The sky was starting to darken already, but Kayla judged she still had forty minutes or so before it got too dark to see. When that happened, she would eat, cover the fire, retire to her tent, and call it an day. Another day spent safe and sound.

The real battle was the lack of anything for her to do. She had already finished the few books she had brought, and never really being one much for reading, she hadn't bothered to reread them, though give her another week or two in her own company and she might just get that desperate.

Shrugging, Kayla decided that the thing to do was to start making dinner. She'd rack her brains for something to do after it got dark, and right now, she was hungry.

It was just twenty minutes later when the first noise came from the trees. It was nothing more than a scuffling, but after such a long time by herself, Kayla was instantly alert to it. Her head snapped upright, eyes flicking from tree to tree. Without meaning too, her hand started toward her wand.

She had just touched the handle of it, heart thumping wildly, when the dog came into view. It was thin, painfully so, and looked so pitiful that Kayla immediately felt bad for almost stunning it.

"Hey," Kayla said to the dog, withdrawing her hand from her pocket. She kept her voice low as she crouched down. The dog kept its distance, sizing her up. "You hungry boy?"

She glanced at the meal she was cooking, and quickly determined it wasn't fit to eat yet. She pulled out a piece of bread from the backpack, tore it in half, and cautiously tossed the larger piece in front of the dog. It landed in the snow with a soft _puff_. The dog sniffed at it suspiciously for a moment, before eagerly started to chow down on it.

Kayla studied the dog as he ate, muscles still tense after the close call. He looked like some kind of mutt, a half-breed. He'd obviously fallen on lean times, judging by the rate that he was downing the bread. There were old cuts on one side of his coat, perhaps marking where it had been in a fight. The dog was likely a stray, albeit one that wasn't scared of humans, although that simply be a mark of how hungry he was.

By now, the dog had finished his half of the bread, and was greedily looking toward the uneaten piece in Kayla's hand.

"Here boy," said Kayla, tossing the bread at the foot of the dog. "You have a name boy? Do you, hmmm? Do you boy?"

 _Why is it,_ said the voice in her head, _that as soon as you see a dog, you suddenly feel the need to talk like a dazed child?_

"Oh, hush," she said, not bothering to ask the voice where it had been all day. The dog looked up at her in surprise, his body language wary again. "This is the first dog you've ever seen me with."

 _Well, there was that one in that Muggle town you bought your supplies in last time,_ supplied the voice. _Surely it can't be a coincidence that you talked the same way to it?_

Kayla ignored the voice again, something that she was starting to get a lot of practice with lately.

The dog lowered his head again, clearly reasoning that the crazy human girl in front of him didn't offer enough of a threat to distract him from the food.

Kayla got a good look at its neck. No collar. Definitely a stray than, and a hungry one at that. Kayla sighed and reached into her pack, digging for something else to give to the dog, when, as they say in sophisticated circles, shit hit the fan.

The dog heard it first, ears pricking up. Kayla heard it moments later, the unmistakable sound of feet trampling through fresh snow. Then Kayla heard the voices, at least six, but maybe more. The denseness of the trees did a good job of hiding her, but they also dampened the sound of anyone coming closer. It took a moment before they came close enough for Kayla to hear what they said.

"C'mon Bill, It's could, daylight's almost up, and we've seen nothing all day," said a voice. Thin, reedy, and Kayla pictured a small man saying them. Automatically, she checked that her wand was still pocket.

"Ah, give him a break," said a different voice, "if you were a Mud-blood, wouldn't you hide in here?"

Mud-blood. So they were Snatchers, or worse, Death Eaters. Kayla knew she had to get out of there. She grabbed the shovel and pushed it onto her backpack. She could do without her tent, if she to, but she had to leave.

"Stop," hissed a voice, the tone so commanding that Kayla stopped as well for a second. "I see a fire ahead."

The dog started whimpering lightly, actually getting close enough to scuff up against Kayla's leg. Kayla looked down at it, where it was pawing at the bag, unhappy that the food was being put away.

"Sorry girl," whispered Kayla, hoisting the pack onto her pack. The dig whined pathetically, and, after a moment's fight with herself, her pity for the dog won out. Kayla quickly lowered her pack to the ground, reaching in for more food. Seconds later, she thrust a whole loaf at the dog. The dog quieted down immediately and began chewing at it, just in time for her to her the last few words they were saying

"—and make sure they can't Apparate. And be sure you do it over a wide area too, I'd hate to lose another one like that."

Kayla cursed her moment of weakness in waiting for the dog, but it was far too late; unsurprisingly, the only thing that happened when she tried to Apparate was that she slipped and landed next to the dog. Worse yet, the Snatches might have heard her grunt, because sound of tramping feet picked up, heading straight for her, and she saw movement through the trees.

She considered her options. She could try to flee, but they outnumbered her, and running would be difficult in a wood this closely packed. On the other hand, she could play dumb and act the part of a Muggle, which had gotten her out of the other two times she had almost been caught. As the footsteps got alarmingly close, she hastily decided on the former plan, as running away was always an option. She barely managed drop her pack and get to her fire before they were on her.

There were eight of them, all wearing clothing with a ragged armband, possibly a uniform of some kind. They quickly spread out in a circle around her little clearing, wands trained on her.

It's ok Kayla, she thought to herself. It's not the first group of Snatchers you've dealt with. Just don't lose your head, and you'll be fine. Don't think about that fact that you're outnumbered, or that you're an appalling dueller—too late.

Kayla drew a breath as they moved closer to her, most of their faces just out of range of the fire. Now was the time to say something, before they had a chance to get the ball rolling.

"Bicycles," she blurted out. The Snatchers paused, looking at each other, obviously not expecting to hear that.

 _Brilliant,_ said the voice. _Now you're talking like a dazed child to everyone._

"That's the name of the dog, if you're wondering," said Kayla, recovering smoothly. She could do this. The key was to just not panic.

"That's his name?" asked a Snatcher, a big one, blond hair glinting in the firelight as he squatted down and clicked his tongue. "Here boy. C'mon over here boy. Yes, what a good boy. What a good boy you are. Yes you are."

 _Do all humans get stupider the closer they are to animals?_ wondered the voice. Kayla imagined it rolling its eyes, and then remembered that the voice didn't have eyes.

"Really Paul?" asked the leader, a portly man who looked like he had only squeezed into his robes with difficulty, glaring down at the blond Snatcher. "We're here on business, and you're going to pet her dog?"

"Sorry boss," said Paul, standing up. The dog whined at him, and then sniffed at his feet, making no move to go back to Kayla.

 _Traitor,_ muttered Voice, and this time Kayla had to agree with him.

The Snatchers drew still closer to her. The flickering light from the fire made them all seem bigger, more intimidating.

"We've got you surrounded," said the leader unnecessarily. "Don't put up a fight, and you won't be harmed."

"What do you want?" asked Kayla, reminding herself just in time not to raise her hands up. A Muggle would have no clue that they were pointing more than sticks at her, so Kayla couldn't either. "And who are you people? Halloween's already over. A while ago now, as a matter of fact. "

"I don't know," said the Snatcher next to the leader. He had a short grey beard, and what looked like a permanent scowl. "She doesn't seem like anything more than a Muggle."

"Shut up, Fred," said the leader, scowling at him. "She could be disguising herself."

"What are you talking about?" said Kayla, trying her best to look bewildered. "What's a Muggle, and what does it want with me?"

"Shut up!" the leader barked at her, visibly annoyed. "Don't try to run, or else..."

He made gesture with his wand.

"Or?" said Kayla, feigning confusion.

"You know," grunted the leader, making the same gesture again. "Or else..."

"You're going to wave a stick at me?" Kayla resisted the urge to add more. Keeping it simple was the key. And not panicking. Those were the two keys.

"She's got be a Muggle," said the Snatcher with the grey beard again, eyeing her tent, fire, and backpack. "Look around mate, everything here's Muggle made, and no one's that good of an actor."

"Shut it Fred," said the Leader, casting a nasty look at the grey bearded Snatcher. "That's up to me to decide, and not you!"

"I'm just saying, she'd have to be a fantastic actor," said Fred, scowling at Kayla, as if it was somehow her fault he was being told to shut up.

Kayla opened her mouth to thank him for the complement, and then remembered that she was still acting and quickly shut it.

 _Fantastic,_ the voice said again. Kayla pictured it rolling its eyes again, before she caught herself. _Yes, you're such a good actor that you have to accept every compliment._

"Check her tent," suggested one, the only female in their group. "See if it's magical."

"Magic?" said Kayla, as the blond Paul strode over to her tent, the dog happily following along beside him. "You guys think I have magic tricks?"

Paul opened the door to her tent roughly, as if determined to make up for his moment of weakness with the dog.

"Nothing magical in there," he said, pulling his head out of the tent. "I mean, it smells kind of funny, but other than that..."

He shrugged. Kayla felt her cheeks flame, as if a man calling the place where she slept ripe (which, to be fair, it was, since she had camped in it every day since mid-August) mattered. _I know_ , she thought to herself, before the voice had a chance to chime in with something sarcastic.

 _You know me so well,_ said the voice, _but I'm actually really impressed with how you're doing. I think we might get out of this yet._

"She really is just a Muggle then," said the female Snatcher. "That's a shame."

"We could always have some fun with her," suggested another one of the Snatchers. "It's always fun to watch them squeal, and I'd hate to have come out here for nothing."

There was a chorus of mumbled agreements from about three quarters of the group, including the blond Paul.

"Do have to go through this again?" grunted grey-bearded Snatcher. It was hard to tell with a voice like his, but he sounded very slightly annoyed with the rest of the Snatchers. "Let's just go. She's not worth any money, and I have a bunch of things left to do."

"You're such a softie," said the leader, grinning at Kayla, as the snatchers slowly started to advance on her. "We can have our fun, and still be in time for dinner."

 _Never mind,_ the voice sounded timid. _I think you're in trouble._

"I'm in trouble?" muttered Kayla under her breath, slowly reaching for her wand. It looked like they—she—wouldn't be able to talk their way out of this one, and whatever she was going to do next, she was certain she would need her wand. "You're a part of me, remember?"

 _You...you present a strong case of why I'm in trouble as well_ the voice congratulated her. _May I suggest a hasty exit strategy?_

Six of the Snatchers were slowly approaching her, some tucking way their wands, confident that they wouldn't need them. She waited until they were ten feet away, and then subtly turned the snow beneath two of them into slush, which they promptly sank up to their knees in.

"Huh?" they both said, but Kayla had already transfigured the slush back, not into snow, but into solid stone.

"She has a wand!" yelled one of them, as he tried to raise his foot, but Kayla had already ducked past him. The other one had doubled over in an attempt to wrench himself free of the stone, but he gamely made a grab for her jacket; his fingernails scrapped the back of her coat, but then she was out of his reach.

She sprinted into the darkening forest, putting trees between her and the Snatchers. She could here shouts and yells, and the sound of feet driving through the snow behind her. She cast a look back and caught a quick glance of six of them racing after her before she had to duck forward, a spell soaring where her head had been. Giving the mental equivalent of a shrug, she bent forward, pounding holes in the snow as she raced forward.

It was still snowing, but nowhere near fast enough to cover her tracks, which meant that she would have keep running, at least until the sun was down and they had to rely on wandlight. She spared a glance up at the sky, noting the red tinge at the edge. Sunset was already here. All she had to do was avoid them for ten minutes or so, and then she would be safe—relatively speaking of course. For people like her, there was no complete safety.

Another spell flew over her shoulder, slamming into a branch just ahead of her, raining splinters of wood down on her.

 _Still, anyplace is safer than this, eh?_ said the voice, as Kayla redoubled her efforts.

There was panting behind her, and more spells flew around her. Kayla could tell by the way the spells were soaring past her that they had formed a semicircle of sorts, driving her forward and all but making her run straight. They might look ragged, but they were in surprisingly good shape, and they were gaining on her.

 _You know, running this way means that you're running away from the sun,_ said the voice blandly. _I think it would make a nice picture, don't you?_

Kayla didn't waste her breath answering. She could see her shadow in front of her, running frantically through the snow. Another spell shot two feet left of her, and Kayla put on a burst of speed, fear spurring her on.

The drop was so sudden Kayla barely had time to stop. Flinging her arm out, she managed to cling onto a tree, skidding to a halt with inches to spare.

She was on the top of a ridge, a small valley spreading out below her, the ridge she was on casting its shadow far over the land. Directly below her, she thought she could see trees and maybe a small creek, though it was too dark to see properly. The drop was quite far. It couldn't quite be called a cliff, as there was some ground leading away from her, but it was far too steep to be called a hill. It was more of a...hilff?

 _Focus Kayla,_ said the voice, still sounding completely unflustered. _Get away, and then you can call it whatever you like._

Kayla looked left, and then right. To go left or right was to run parallel to the hilff, and risk being cut off by the group still behind her. She realized that they must have driven her here on purpose. She had nowhere left to run. In theory at least, but a third, rather desperate option occurred to Kayla.

 _Don't you dare..._ started the voice, for the first time sounding worried, but then a spell hit the tree Kayla had her arm around, and she acted. Driving her legs forward, she tore down the hilff as fast as she could without falling over.

She had misjudged how steep it was though, and within five steps she was going too fast, and she couldn't keep her feet. She screamed as she lost control and began what could be called a freefall. She didn't know if the Snatchers could see her anymore, or if they had started down after her, but now she had bigger troubles. She bounced down the hilff, jacket preventing her from getting too scratched, but doing little to protect her from the impacts with the ground. She screamed again as she went through a briar patch, tearing out a clump of her hair, and then suddenly stopped as she smashed into a creek, splintering the ice that had, until now, coated it.

All the breath was blasted from her body, though the screaming had already taken most of it away. For a moment, she lay there, stunned. It took five seconds for the freezing water to work its way through all her layers and reach her skin.

Gasping back to into action, she reached toward her bleeding scalp, then switched halfway to go instead to her ribs. Probing, she concluded that at least five of them were broken, maybe another three cracked. Quickly, she checked the rest of her. No limbs broken, but bruises everywhere, and her wand had somehow had remained intact, a miracle on its own.

 _Next time you jump off of a cliff,_ suggested the voice rather coolly. _You could try a Bouncing Charm. I think you might find it's easier on the body_

Kayla thought about that for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that it probably would have worked, and that that information would have been a lot more useful a minute ago.

"I hate you," she said to the voice, but predictably, it didn't answer. She glanced up to the top of the ridge. She could hear shouting, but so far no one seemed to want to follow her. Groaning, she lay back down on the broken ice, trying to ignore the frigid water. She had to heal her ribs, and that was best done lying down, preferably on something flat. Since she didn't have that, and moving herself to a flat surface would be difficult, she would just have to do the best she could. She squirmed around a bit, and then, biting her lip, she waved her wand over her body.

She could feel her bones actually moving under her skin, repositioning themselves back to where they were supposed to be, before sealing themselves back to the bones where they belonged. It wasn't a pleasant process, but it wasn't exactly painful either, and within half a minute, Kayla was sitting up, ribs repaired.

Whimpering, she stood up. Her ribs were healed, but she was still heavily bruised, and she didn't have time to heal every bruise. Limping slightly, she set off, heading away from the ridge. It was almost completely dark in here, the sun blocked by the ridge, and it would hard for them to track her through a dense forest at night while it was snowing. Kayla was confident that she was as good as gone, even if the Snatchers wanted to follow her down here. It would only take a few minutes before she was far enough to Apparate away. She was practically safe already.

Two seconds later, a wizard bounced down right past her, rebounding off of a tree and rolling to a stop somewhere in the darkness. It was hard to see exactly where he, or she, had landed, but Kayla had a good guess, and she hurried away from it. The plan was still a good one. Even with a bouncing charm to prevent harm, Kayla wagered that he would be disoriented enough for her to lose him the dark, and she thought it unlikely that most of the Snatchers would want to come down here. Even with her moving slower then she'd like, she was still perfectly safe.

She made it ten feet when she heard the telltale sound of boots crunching around behind her.

 _It's just not really your day, is it?_ said the voice.

"I swear, the only thing you do is complain," muttered Kayla, hurrying up, but before she had done more than lift her leg up, she heard the Snatcher behind her grunt, "stop!"

Kayla did so. She didn't feel much like running anymore anyway. She fingered her wand, trying to work out how fast she could turn around. She wasn't going to go to Azkaban. She'd felt enough dementors recently that she knew that she'd do anything to avoid going there, even if it involved getting herself killed.

"Turn around," ordered the voice. Kayla did as she had been told. The Snatcher hadn't told her to put her hands up or throw down her wand, so she kept it close to her, hiding her wand from his view.

It was the grey bearded Snatcher who had wanted her to be let go. Kayla almost felt bad that she would have to Stun him. Then pain surged from a half dozen places when she shifted, and she quickly felt all the sympathy drain away.

"Listen up," said the Snatcher. His eyes flickered up to the ridge, then back down to Kayla. "There's a storage unit in London. Apparate to King George's Park, and head away from the Thames. When you pass the tennis courts, turn left and walk to the end of the street. Turn right on the lane. Keep walking till you see Warble River road. Go down that street and the unit's right in front of you. Number one-six-eight. Key's hidden, but you should be able to Summon it. Inside you'll find some backpacks with camping supplies. Only take what you need."

Kayla stared at him, completely taken by surprise.

"What?" he said, as if she shouldn't be confused by this sudden turn of events.

"What?" she asked, still not comprehending what was going on.

"Don't patronize me," he growled, scowling at her. It was getting too dark to see properly, but Kayla saw his eyes glance back at the top of the ridge she had fallen down.

"You're helping me?" said Kayla, brain still failing to fully understand what was happening.

 _Obviously,_ said the voice, but even it seemed too shocked to sound properly sarcastic.

"Obviously," said the Snatcher. "Your brain working right?"

"You're helping me?" asked Kayla again.

"Are you even listening to me?" said the man, annoyed.

"You're helping me?" said Kayla, but now amazement was starting to replace the shock.

"Knew we'd get there," said the man, scowling at her again. "Now do I have to repeat myself?"

"I got it," said Kayla. She relaxed her grip on her wand. She didn't know how, or why, but it seemed like there was still hope for her. "Why are you helping me?"

"Why do people always have to ask why?" said the man. He grumbled under his breath for a moment before he spoke up again. "And back in my day, when we got rescued, we'd the manners to thank people for it. Not these days I guess, eh?"

He looked pointedly at Kayla.

"Uh, thanks," stammered Kayla. "This is kind of the first real conversation I've had in months, so..."

 _I don't count?_ asked the voice, hurt, but Kayla wasn't falling for it. It wasn't hurt at all.

"I suppose that's forgivable," said the man, voice softening by a miniscule amount. "You know where to go?"

"Yeah," said Kayla, but now a finger of doubt was starting to reach into her. A part of her couldn't help but wonder if this was a trap. Perhaps she would be better off to ignore him. She was sure she could acquire some sort of supplies in one of the Muggle towns she had passed through.

 _And be a thief?_ said the voice. _C'mon, if he wanted to turn you in, he would have stunned you before you had turned around._

"That's a good point," admitted Kayla, momentarily forgetting the man in front of her.

 _I felt bad about not suggesting the Bouncing Charm before you jumped off the cliff,_ admitted the voice. _I've decided to make myself more useful. You know, for now._

"Glad to hear it," said Kayla. She refocused on the scene in front of her, the one with the man who had just offered her help and then heard her talking to herself. "Uh..."

"You sure your brain's working?" asked the man, studying her.

"Nope," said Kayla under her breath. She raised her voice and said, "I'm fine. Thank you for your help."

"What are you waiting for?" barked the man, when Kayla didn't move. "Kids these days..."

He mumbled something under his breath, before he turned and started picking his way up the hilff, grumbling all the while.

Kayla grinned to herself as she watched him disappear into the dark. She was badly bruised, half of her hair was torn away, she was bleeding from the scalp, she had lost everything in the backpack, her legs were starting to cramp from all the running she had done, and she was wet and starting to get very cold.

But she was alive, supplies were within a few minutes of her, and best of all, it seemed like Muggle-borns weren't alone. There were still a few people out there who hadn't given up on them yet.


End file.
